Legacy
by Stargazer1987
Summary: Col. Will Tavington was never supposed to die at Cowpens. History was corrupted by a vengeful relative who was never meant to exist. Tavington's fiance destined to marry him never did. Only one descendant from Tavington's bloodline, living safely in an alternant reality caused by the time rift, can prevent Will T. death and repair the timeline or cease to exist herself.
1. Inheritance

Author's Note: This story is not historically accurate and is almost purely fictitious, based upon the "Patriot" movie and not actual history. Also, I am not Catholic but I have a friend who is. I don't remember specific religious customs for Catholics so I'm sorry if what I've written, isn't accurate either.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Patriot or any canon characters. My characters that I invented belong to me! As another note, part of this was inspired by "Kate and Leopold" and "Back to the Future". So those general ideas are not mine.

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 **LEGACY: Chapter 1**

 _\- April 5_ _th_ _, 2017 -_

Jayne Peyton stood beside her father, with tear-filled eyes lowered towards the soggy ground. It was pouring rain in huge, cold droplets that would have otherwise left her completely drenched if it weren't for the dark black and grey umbrella currently shielding her from the elements.

The umbrella was being steadily held aloft by the strong, firm grip of her father. As he sheltered them both from the merciless downpour, he wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders in a one-armed embrace.

Jayne barely heard the words of the priest as he read from a thick, leather bound bible. Her attention was focused mostly on the sleekly polished, black coffin that was being slowly lowered into the ground. About two minutes later, she heard the word "Amen" as the priest closed his eulogy in prayer. Jayne watched with dull eyes as other relatives and friends gently dropped roses and other vibrantly colored flowers atop the coffin that had finally been lain to rest at the bottom of the freshly dug grave. A thick, plastic tarp sheltered the final resting place of the deceased, keeping the earth and soil dry and well protected from the storm above them.

Jayne walked forward once she was the last of the family to pay her respects. Not trusting her own voice, she remained silent to prevent it from cracking, as she used her fingers to cross herself as was custom for her catholic upbringing. She stared for what felt like hours at the casket below ground before finally bending down to drop a single, red rose into the gravesite of her dearly departed grandfather.

She choked on a sob and turned away, breaking free of her father's grasp and left the protective shelter of the umbrella. Jayne headed for her father's car, uncaring that she was soaking wet from the never-ending deluge. It was fitting weather for a funeral. Now with an emotionless expression and grief within her heart, she grasped the handle of the sleek, bright red 2017 Toyota corolla and glanced back, only once.

The great thing about walking through the rain, she mused…was that no one could see the trail of tears that ran silently down her face.

 **\- 4 Hours Later –**

Jayne was sitting on the edge of her bed, staring absentmindedly down at the soft, light blue carpet of her bedroom. The reception had ended an hour earlier. She was clothed in a dry pair of black cargo pants and a long sleeved, navy blue shirt with bold white print on the front. Three large letters stood out from all the rest. **C.I.A.** Right beneath it, a phrase read: "Confidence In the Almighty".

She had always considered herself a tomboy of sorts. She only wore makeup on special occasions or to job interviews. Currently, she was on the verge of becoming a college senior. Jayne had only three more weeks of summer vacation left until she had to drive out from her home in Radcliff, Kentucky all the way down to South Carolina State University.

Jayne was majoring in the medical field. Apart from learning all about modern day medicine, she did on many occasions learn all about natural medicine and the healing arts from her second cousin on her mother's side. She simply called him her uncle Jonathan. He was half-Chippewa and taught her all there was to know of the wonders of herbal medicine. He even taught her how to use a bow and how to throw a Tomahawk.

Jayne's grief deepened. It was hard enough burying her father's father that day…but only a month earlier, her uncle Jonathan died. That wasn't even the half of it.

Her mother passed away from breast cancer during her freshman year in college, only a mere three years past. That was one of the main driving forces that inspired her to go into the medical field. Her desire was to save as many lives as she could. She planned to go to an actual medical school after she graduated from the University in order to get her doctor's degree.

A soft knock on her bedroom door-frame broke her silent, depressive reverie. She looked up into the concerned, sky-blue eyes of her father. Eyes that were identical to her own. Rather than inheriting customary blonde hair in addition to her blue eyes, her hair was a light, reddish brown, just like her mother's had been.

"Jayne…there's something you need to see," her father stated softly.

Jayne nodded silently and slid off the bed. She rose to her feet and silently followed her father up to the attic of her home. It was very dusty and Jayne sneezed upon the opening of the door. Her father led her over to a locked chest. It looked, well…ancient. Like it was at _least_ over a hundred years old. The metal hinges were rusted and the outside showed mild signs of decay. Her father crouched down and held a gleaming, silver key up for her to see.

"Your grandfather left this chest and all its contents to you," he smiled softly, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Jayne hesitantly took the key from him with great confusion and curiosity.

"Why didn't grandpa give this to you? You're his son."

"For reasons unknown, he wanted you and no one else to inherit it. He never told me why."

"What's inside it?"

Her father smiled again although his eyes were still sad, no doubt still grieving the death of his father.

"I don't know. That…is something you must discover for yourself."

He stood from where he'd been kneeling and left his daughter in the attic alone.

Jayne watched him leave and sat down on the dusty floor in front of the old, worn chest and studied the silver key. It felt heavy and it had multiple scratches and small, barely discernable dents on the surface. The key otherwise was in good shape.

With a weary sigh, she carefully slid the key into the pronged key-hole and slowly turned it counter-clockwise until she heard a loud 'click'. Without removing the key, she slowly raised the lid and peered inside, thankful that soft, yellow light poured in from the open attic door and for the small flashlight in her hand which illuminated the contents mysteriously held within.

Very old documents, antique trinkets, and black and white photographs from a time long past, were the majority of what encompassed the chest's interior. An old leather bound journal also caught her eye. After scouring through most contents, she discovered that the oldest written document was dated around 1775. Her eyebrows knit in contemplation.

 _Wait, wasn't that around the time of the Revolutionary war between the British and the colonials?_

The document was worn, yellowed, slightly torn, and the creases suggested it had been folded and unfolded countless times. The creases were taped, which suggested that over time, someone did their best to preserve it. Now, she could see that it had been laminated. It appeared to be a love letter. It was written with the most elegant penmanship she'd ever seen. It was from a woman named Sarah Hewitt to a man named William Tavington. The woman wrote the letter from England to her fiancé. It read:

 _My Beloved William,_

 _I pray that this letter finds you well. Not a moment goes by that I do not think of you. Our hometown of Liverpool has greatly expanded in your absence. They have opened additional trade routes along the coast._

 _Summer is ending. Merchants have been selling the last of the Strawberries in the region._

 _Oh my dear Will…nothing has been the same since your departure. I know that you are a soldier and that it is your duty to fight for King and country. I just wish the war would end, so that you may return to me. I want you safe in my arms. Nothing else matters._

 _If only we could finally wed. My parents have grown rather impatient. They believe that I should accept the fact that you are never coming back… they want me to court another suitor. Edrick Miller has already called upon me. Of course I politely declined. Nothing is the same without you here._

 _You are my true love, Will. I will wait until the end of time if I must. All I want, is to hold you in my arms again. I desire to change my name in secret._

 _Sarah J. Tavington._

 _It has a nice ring to it, don't you agree? Please stay safe, my love. I love you…now until forever._

 _Eternally yours,_

 _Sarah._

Jayne released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. So…was Sarah Hewitt or Tavington…a distant relation? May, 18th 1775…that was the date on the letter.

 _Wait…wasn't William Tavington a British Colonel with a savage reputation?_

Jayne ran out of the attic and to her room. She grabbed her American history book and ran back upstairs and dropped to her knees as she skimmed through the index. Finding the right page, she began to read.

So…she was right. Colonel William Tavington. Soldier of the British Calvary—a special unit called the "Green Dragoons". Tavington in history was also known as "The Butcher" due to his rather ruthless and merciless tactics.

Didn't someone make a movie called "The Patriot"? She knew Mel Gibson and Jason Isaacs starred in it. She thought she might have watched it once but couldn't remember their roles.

Her eyes caught sight of something else in the chest. Something that she knew did not belong with all of the other antiques.

A rectangular case with an unmarked VHS in it. She looked around and spotted the old TV set and VCR that her father kept stored away and plugged both in to the outlets nearby after dusting them off. It was a miracle that they still worked. She popped in the VHS into the VCR and was startled when it immediately began to play a visual recording…tears formed in her eyes when she came face-to-face with her grandfather.

" _Hello Jayne. If you are watching this tape, then I'm afraid that means that I am no longer with you. I know you must have many questions. I will do the best that I can to answer them for you. The contents within the chest hold our family legacy. Everything you see within have been passed down from generation to generation, through your father's bloodline…"_

 _He paused and rubbed his eyes tiredly and exhaled a heavy sigh. He looked back up to the camera and his entire demeanor changed. His expression grew very severe._

" _Jayne…what I'm about to tell you will sound nothing short of crazy. I can prove that my words are solid truth. In the chest, there is a gold watch. It's from the 1890's. It is not open faced but is covered with a small lid, you know…the antique ones that contain a single photo inside of it?"_

Jayne rummaged around in the chest until she found the gold watch her grandfather described. She examined it carefully in her hands a moment and then lifted her eyes to stare evenly at the screen.

"… _that watch doesn't just tell time. It's a link to our past. It was crafted by a brilliant inventor in the latter years of the 19_ _th_ _century. The watch in your hand was given to our ancestor, James Mitchell Hewitt in 1798. I know what you must be asking yourself. How did a watch crafted in 1893 wind up in the year 1798? James Hewitt is where our trouble truly begins. I'm sure that by now you have found and read the letter between Sarah Hewitt and William Tavington…"_

 _He raised his eyes to look up at the ceiling and appeared to be considering what he was about to say next. When he looked back at the camera, his expression was grim._

" _Our family name was changed at least ten times due to marriages within the last two centuries. We are descended from the Hewitt bloodline for certain. I don't know what role Tavington played that effected our family's past. In history, he was considered a cruel and heartless man. He committed atrocities during the Revolutionary war that not even I want to mention…he died right before the battle of Cowpens. Jayne, he was never_ _ **supposed**_ _to die. All I can really say, is that James Hewitt drastically altered the timeline. Colonel William Tavington is your primary mission…" Her grandfather paused as he ran a hand through his thinning hair._

" _Jayne…to put it simply…the pocket watch has the ability to open a gateway through time and space. It sounds like a fairy tale. It really should be…" He leaned forward until his face was mere inches from the camera lens and then continued. "I can_ _ **prove**_ _it…look inside the chest again. There are photographs that were taken many years ago, long before my birth. They are in a tattered envelope. Those photographs, my granddaughter…are all the proof you need. I was one of the ones foolish enough to utilize the watch. One of three. Time travel is dangerous and can alter not just your destiny…but the lives of everyone else as well. It's called the "Ripple Effect". My grandfather explained it in detail in one of his journal logs. Pause this tape and then resume this recording after you've studied the pictures closely…"_

Jayne did exactly as her grandfather ordered and paused the VHS. She dug around inside the trunk until she found the envelope he had described. She pulled out numerous photos. To her confusion, there were a few that utterly confused her. As though they had been taken during different time periods. The majority however appeared to have been taken during the 18th century. After looking through each one, she came across a picture that she knew couldn't possibly exist.

" _Impossible",_ she breathed in astonishment.

In the photograph, she could see from a distance, the bodies of British soldiers and colonial regulars littering a recent battlefield. It wasn't the fact that the timestamp was dated for the Revolutionary war in 1776…it was the person in the background.

"Oh my God…"

There in the distance…was a young woman. Her identity was unmistakable.

The girl in the picture…was _**her**_ _._ Jayne Peyton was walking out into the field with what appeared to be a medical bag slung over her shoulders. Her head was down as she appeared to be searching for any wounded survivors. There was a British soldier, a strange looking one from his attire, following behind her. He wore a uniform befitting the British army but he wore a strange hat with something…fluffy on top. Like a helmet someone would use while horseback riding. If anything, it gave the man an arrogant sort of look.

If that was her in the background…then who the hell took the picture?! She whirled around to stare at the screen and pushed the resume button.

" _I'm sorry Jayne. Yes, that was really_ _ **you**_ _in the background. I know, because_ _ **I'm**_ _the one who took that picture! When I traveled to the past, which was an accident I assure you, I altered time. If you do not go back to the year 1775…you and me…our entire family, will cease to exist altogether. There are clues within some of the other photographs and within my grandfather's journal that will aid you in repairing the timeline. I cannot tell you anymore. It's not safe. Your destiny must not be altered, or the consequences could be disastrous, remember that! This is the reason why you and you alone, inherited the items contained within the chest. Once you return to the future…nothing will be the same. It's an unfortunate price that must always be paid. There are instructions inscribed on the watch. Follow them. They will be your guide. And Jayne…"_

The young woman held her breath as she waited to hear what he had to say to her next.

" _Whatever you do…_ _ **do not**_ _confront me when you travel back to 1775. The picture was taken before your father was even born. I was a young man and had no knowledge of your identity. I cannot be made aware of your existence or the future may be rewritten…and you and your father, will cease to be. I love you so much Jayne. I'm so sorry. Only_ _ **you**_ _can set things right. I believe in you. You're the bravest young lady that I've ever known…and I've never been more honored, to have been your grandfather."_

The tape ended with the image of her grandfather's proud, yet tear-filled, smiling face frozen on the screen.

Jayne pressed her lips against her fingers and then touched the television screen in a farewell kiss. She sat stunned with misty eyes for a moment as she tried to process everything her grandfather had just revealed. Then without further delay, she rummaged through the photos and other historical items in the chest. She pocketed the watch, the envelope with the photos, the small journal, the love letter between Sarah Hewitt and William Tavington, and made sure her wallet was stuffed safely within one of the many pockets in her cargo pants. She shut the lid and locked it. Deciding against her better judgment, she pocketed the silver key as well.

She stood up from where she had been kneeling and stretched stiff muscles.

So the pocket watch was a time-traveling device, huh? She never would have believed her grandfather had it not been for that photo. Jayne stood still as her mind began to race. What would happen if she refused to travel to the past? The image of herself back in that historical era _proved_ that she had _already_ time travelled!

Jayne ran down to her room and pulled on a black hoodie and left the house. Luckily, she had a friend that lived only a couple of blocks away and had a copy of "The Patriot". She knew it wasn't entirely, historically accurate. Still, she needed to see it. Her friend Megan allowed her to borrow it and after Jayne watched it, she frowned.

 _Tavington was a total asshole!_

Still, if what her grandfather said was true. Then William Tavington was in mortal danger and it was her responsibility to ensure that he survived for the sake of her family.

What had her so confused though, was that in the movie, Tavington was killed by _Benjamin Martin_ **during** the battle of Cowpens. She paused and pulled her great-great grandfather's leather bound journal from out of her pocket and skimmed through each page. There was a journal entry dated August 8th, 1775. According to the log, Tavington was assassinated by _James Hewitt_ …in 1776 **before** the battle of Cowpens! Unfortunately, that journal entry did not say when or where that event occurred.

"Wait a minute…" she mumbled as she rummaged through the photographs again. She found two photographs that her grandfather must have taken around that time frame. One depicted two men struggling and grappling for dominance as they both tried to use the musket they were fighting over to knock the other down. Scribbled on the backside of the photograph was faded, blank ink. It read: _Stewart Peyton vs. James Hewitt_. The second picture in addition to that one, showed the image of a Green Dragoon getting shot in the chest by James Hewitt at point blank range. The soldier's back was turned towards the camera, so Jayne couldn't get a good look at his face. His body was flying backwards mid-air and his arms were flailed above his head. He had a pistol clutched in one hand and had a sword in the other. On the back of that black and white photo, a rather sloppy scribble explained the identities of the two men. _James Hewitt assassinates Colonel William Tavington._ Jayne frantically searched for a timestamp that might suggest the exact date that the picture had been taken but couldn't find one.

She mumbled a soft curse of frustration. How the hell was she supposed to prevent Tavington's death if she didn't even know the exact time and date that he was killed?!

After returning Megan's movie, Jayne ran out towards the park on the edge of town and was relieved to see that nobody was there. It was still raining…that was probably the reason.

She shivered against the chill and rubbed her arms in a vain attempt to stay warm and jogged over to a nearby tree, seeking privacy and shelter. She pulled out the pocket watch and flipped the lid open to reveal the watch face. She saw an inscription inside the lid and had to squint to make out the tiny print. She began to read it out loud…

 _Touch the key_

 _And you will see_

 _Your forgotten legacy_

 _Reverse the time_

 _And you will find_

 _Ties that will forever bind_

Jayne stopped reading and yelped when the pocket watch began to freaking **glow.** Almost as though a mini golden sun was sitting just beneath the clock face. She felt incredibly frightened and her resolve to see her mission through wavered…until the image of her grandfather's face surfaced to mind. He believed in her.

As much as she didn't want to…she knew she had to do this. With newfound determination, she released her anxiety with her next exhale and returned her eyes to the script and continued to read aloud.

 _To set things right_

 _Prepare to fight_

 _Or plunge into eternal night_

She paused and swallowed a thick lump in her throat as her mouth began to go dry. That last phrase really, _really_ didn't sound good…

How encouraging.

There were only three lines left…

 _To mend the past_

 _Just count to three_

 _Then forever think of me…_

What the hell did all of that mean?! The pocket watch was glowing now with greater intensity, casting light upon her face.

A key was required to unlock the watch? Her grandfather never mentioned that! That's when she noticed a smudge on the gold surface on the backside of the timepiece that she hadn't noticed before. It looked like a bloody thumbprint…

 _Wait a minute…_

That had to be the key! Only those within her bloodline had ever used the watch! Jayne pulled out the small pocket-knife that had been strapped to her ankle and made a small cut on her thumb with a grimace and pressed her bloody thumbprint against the surface with a small hiss. Then her eyes quickly skimmed over the words again.

Second step was to reverse time. She rewound the watch backwards and stopped once it refused to wind any further. The third direction was "to count to three and think of me…" Think of whom?!

Wait. It was a riddle! She had to close her eyes and picture the time period she wanted to go and picture who it was that she wanted to see. Her thumb found the small button on the right side of the watches' rim that would start the clock. To prevent herself from losing her nerve, she stubbornly willed herself not to succumb to the fear that was trying to drown her, and hastily clicked the button. She felt an immediate change.

The pocket-watch in her hand began to feel warm and the warmth spread throughout her body…then without any warning, the warmth turned into mind numbing agony as the heat intensified to unbearable levels. The watch felt as though it had melted to her hand and she couldn't stop the agonizing scream from ripping out of her throat. All around her, she could see landscapes altering and whizzing past her at dizzying speeds that were barely discernable to the human eye. Then the watch radiated a brilliant white light and completely blinded her.

Then she knew no more.

 _TO BE CONTINUED!_


	2. A Formal Introduction

Author's Note: Thank you for those that reviewed and added the story to alerts and/or favorites. Just a quick note, when I refer to "Maximus the Roman general"…it is not historically accurate. I based it from the movie "Gladiator" that starred Russell Crowe. Also, I do picture all of the characters in this story to look identical to their "Patriot" movie counterparts!

Disclaimer: I don't own "Gladiator", "Patriot", or the name "Maximus".

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 **LEGACY: Chapter 2**

 _Aug 18_ _th_ _, 1775_

Colonel William Tavington folded the letter in his hands and placed it inside his jacket pocket. It was a letter written by his beloved Sarah Hewitt, his fiancé back in Liverpool, England. He received it a mere three days past and had already read and re-read it at least a hundred times. It was a rare commodity to be given the privilege of sending and receiving mail from their motherland across the sea. Sometimes it took months for a ship to deliver letters. Only high ranking officers such as himself were granted such an indulgence.

He surveyed the small encampment around him with cool, calculating, ice-blue eyes. He stood and straightened his uniform. Then he turned to regard his men.

"Prepare to move out!"

His small contingent of green Dragoons began to break camp and hastily rushed to follow their leader's orders.

The Colonel pulled on his leather gloves and then deftly mounted his steed. He rested his feet in the stirrups and firmly grasped the reigns. He grew impatient as he caught sight of the newest member of his platoon. He was a young boy, barely of age, and had yet to prove his worth. The boy more often than not, tended to slow them all down. Tavington was on the verge of recommending the youth's transfer to a different regiment.

The boy was always the last soldier to be fully battle-ready. All it took was one dark glare from the Colonel to hasten the youngster's overall competency. Most of the men under his command knew not to aggravate or question him. If Tavington was having a very bad day… _someone_ usually suffered for it.

Once everyone was mounted, he sharply commanded his troops, ordering them to ride back to Fort Carolina. The Fort mainly served as a general meeting place for all of the big wigs in the British army. General Cornwallis claimed that particular spot due to its strategic positioning. There were many main encampments filled with his majesty's infantry that could be reached by horse, in less than an hour's time. It also served as military headquarters for every high ranking soldier. Lieutenants, Captains, Colonels, and Generals gathered there at least once a month to report their progress, discuss new strategies, and to receive new orders.

The Green Dragoons took a shortcut, a rarely traveled path through the nearby woods. Suddenly, Tavington raised a hand, signaling for his troops riding behind him to halt. He pulled on the reigns to stop his horse and listened intently. He was sure he heard the snapping of a branch…

Were there rebels or militia hiding nearby? Were they walking into an ambush? If there was one thing that Tavington had learned over the years, it was to trust his instincts...and right now they were screaming at him that something was very wrong.

The fearless Colonel tightened his jaw and looked back at Captain Bordon and used a silent hand-signal. It was a non-verbal order for his subordinate to scout ahead. As it turned out, he didn't need to. Out of the brush, emerged a small band of Colonial soldiers screaming war cries. Tavington snarled angrily when three of his men were gunned down at point blank range and thrown off their mounts. The Dragoon's horses were immediately spooked from the enemy soldiers' unexpected appearance and a few weren't following the commands of their riders.

William Tavington shouted orders amidst the chaos and ordered his men into a retreat so that they could regroup, just as a second wave of Colonial troops poured out of the woods. The Dragoons rode out into a nearby field that was thankfully unoccupied by any unfriendly forces. The Colonel ordered the young lad in his company to ride back to Fort Carolina with all haste to bring reinforcements. The young Dragoon saluted with a shaking hand and with wide eyes, he galloped away as though a pack of ravenous wolves were chasing him. Tavington released a string of curses when a small bullet whistled right past his ear and glowered darkly to see that the Colonials were now advancing.

While he attempted to devise a brilliant plan that would not involve mass suicide, without warning and to their good fortune, a passing platoon of forty British infantrymen hauling a large supply wagon towards the fort crossed paths with them.

"Lieutenant, I want your men to form a perimeter to both the north and the south of the Colonial's forces and await my command. My men will divide and cut off any escaping soldiers that may attempt to flee to the west. Reinforcements are on the way and will cover the eastern field."

"Yes, Colonel!"

"And Lieutenant…"

"Yes, Sir?"

"I expect you to refrain from granting these Continental militants any leniency. Use whatever methods necessary to ensure their defeat." Tavington gave him a severe look that brooked no argument.

The officer swallowed thickly and nodded in understanding.

"Yes, Sir."

The red-coats headed out to follow the Colonel's order. Tavington turned his head to regard the Dragoons in his company who managed to survive the unexpected ambush in the woods. It looked like they had only lost about six out of seventeen after doing a quick headcount. He then looked directly at Bordon with a small, rather dark and derisive, half-grin.

"We will now show these traitors what happens when they foolishly choose to declare war. Take no prisoners, Captain."

Tavington divided his cavalry force and gave them strict orders.

"Once we have claimed victory…execute any surviving rebel wounded. If any man is found to have shown the enemy clemency, he will be drawn and quartered for treason. Do I make myself clear?"

Satisfied that his orders would be explicitly followed, he led the charge with a war cry.

The battle tipped greatly in their favor once their reinforcements from Fort Carolina finally arrived. The leader of the notoriously feared Green Dragoons was beside himself with glee when he witnessed the end result of his rather ingenious battle strategy. The conflict was over sooner than he originally predicted. That was just fine with Colonel William Tavington. He wanted nothing more than to return to Fort Carolina and indulge himself in a hot bath and savor a large cup of wine. He dismounted off of his steed, whom he lovingly called 'Maximus', named after an infamous Roman general…and reloaded his pistol as he walked amongst the fallen bodies of slain enemy soldiers.

He glanced dispassionately at a dying Continental soldier in passing who might have otherwise been overlooked and mistaken for dead had his hand not subtly and quite weakly, clawed at a fistful of dirt. Without batting an eye, he aimed his pistol at the man's head and pulled the trigger without slowing his strides.

"Captain Bordon, report!" he shouted firmly a mere second later.

Bordon ran over to his commanding officer with a disheveled uniform and saluted.

"All enemy soldiers have been executed as ordered."

"Have the lieutenant and his men, take his majesty's wounded soldiers to the surgeons at camp Hilton. Appoint ten infantrymen to bury our dead. I want all Dragoons to report to Fort Carolina immediately.

"And what of the bodies of the dead Colonial militants, Colonel?"

Tavington appeared impassive although his jaw clenched with barely concealed anger. One could plainly see the coldness in his eyes as he growled out his answer.

" _ **Burn them**_."

William Tavington deftly mounted his horse and led his Dragoons towards Fort Carolina, confident that the British infantrymen were more than capable of carrying out his orders without the need of a watchful nanny.

Despite what everyone thought of him, the Colonel was not a hateful man.

 _Angry_ , yes. But not hateful.

His wrath was only truly inspired by the loss of his men-good soldiers, comrades, and friends- mercilessly gunned down in front of his eyes. As a leadership figurehead, it was never an easy responsibility. He took the safety of his Dragoons seriously…and if any of them got hurt, he promised to avenge them with swift retribution. He used to oftentimes blame himself. Tavington put an end to that the day he accepted the fact that, _**no**_ …it wasn't his fault. The blame lay solely upon the Colonials.

The protectiveness he felt and openly exhibited for the soldiers under his command, was still one of his best qualities. He inspired a reverent form of trust and respect amongst the veteran Dragoons that served in his unit. Much to his revulsion, the savage reputation that his enemies had given him, entirely overshadowed what positive attributes he possessed.

Tavington could easily admit that he had both seen and done many unspeakable things. Many of which, were profoundly inhumane. In the beginning of his military career, he tried to justify the seemingly senseless violence by telling himself that he was simply doing his duty—to defend the crown and serve king and country. It was only a year after he suffered through and had his first real taste of the horrors of war that he found a way to survive. He found that his actions, regardless if they were justifiable or not, could be committed but only if he became desensitized to them. Colonel William Tavington forced himself to find a way in which to dehumanize his enemies. If he could make himself see them, not as people…but as something inferior…like animals, it made his atrocities easier to bear.

In his eyes, victory was all that mattered. Over time, he lost all sense of remorse and guilt during the brief moments during battle when he lived up to his cruel reputation. If all people could see in him, was a blood-thirsty, inhumane, merciless, and heartless monster…then what was the point in trying to be anything else?

The war was still fairly early. Tavington knew that the coming new-year was most likely going to herald the worst and most hellish period of their conflict with the Continental army. Whispered rumors reached his ears that pockets of small-arms resistance fighters were beginning to emerge in the nearby region. General Cornwallis did not believe that they were a threat as of yet. The Colonials still had a rather sizeable and impressive military force already. So for now, the only real enemy they needed to concern themselves with were the military regulars.

Tavington frowned when he realized that he had allowed his mind to become dangerously inattentive. The Green Dragoons were about three miles beyond the battleground when yet another unexpected surprise awaited them.

Two unarmed civilians stumbled out of the woods many meters ahead, one obviously chasing the other if the loud indignant screams of protest were anything to go by. The pursuer had blood trickling down the side of their face from a head wound if the dark, matted hair just above it was any indication. The two were so engrossed in dealing with their personal squabble that they were either truly ignorant that they accidentally crossed paths with the infamous Green Dragoons…or they simply didn't care.

Tavington shouted an order and held up a gloved hand when he heard multiple pistol hammering triggers clicking back, as all loaded guns were primed to fire.

"Stay your weapons!"

Tavington commanded as he observed the dramatic scene with steely eyes.

Neither of the two civilians appeared to notice that they were being so carefully scrutinized. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he attempted to identify them. His eyebrows shot up into his hairline in stunned surprise when he at last was close enough to determine that the wounded figure was in fact a girl! At first he had to do a double take due to her short hair and rather boyish attire. Her clothing was utterly foreign but her indignant screams gave her away.

Tavington raised one eyebrow in amusement when the girl bodily tackled the man she had been chasing with an enraged scream.

"GIVE IT BACK! You damn thief! It's _**mine**_!"

"Unless you can prove it is yours, **I** own it!"

"It has my _FAMILY NAME_ written on it, you idiot! **So let it go**!"

"You could be lying for all I know!" he snapped back as he held the book out of reach.

The young woman managed to roll him over after ending their wrestling match with an impressive takedown maneuver and forced his face into the dirt. She twisted the man's arm around behind him and dug one knee into his back, effectively pinning him down to the ground. Then she leaned over and hissed.

"You have exactly _**three**_ seconds to return what belongs to me or you'll never be able to wipe your ass with this particular arm… _the same way twice_!"

Her words and overall tenacity earned very amused chuckles from the Dragoons that were within earshot. Tavington even felt the ghost of a smile tugging on the corner of his lips, as the entertaining spectacle continued to theatrically unfold.

The squirming man beneath her finally admitted defeat as the leather book he had been firmly clutching fell out of his hand. The girl grabbed it and stuffed it into a pocket and then slowly released the man.

"You better be glad that you caught me in such a forgiving mood, or else I would have-"

The young girl didn't even have the chance to cry out, when the thief grabbed a large rock within reach and cracked it against the side of her head. With a gasp of pained dismay, she fell down in a daze and watched as the thief leapt to his feet. She reflexively raised her arms above her head to shield herself, just as he was about to attack her with a nearby branch, but a loud gunshot made him drop it.

The man and the young lady turned their heads and finally took notice of their intimidating audience. Colonel Tavington lowered his smoking pistol from where he'd had it raised above his head towards the sky.

The girl's face paled as she slowly rose to her feet. Her first impulse was to lift her hands in surrender. It was sort of comical because the moment she did, she lost her balance and nearly face-planted in the moist dirt. No thanks to that head injury.

The man, on the other hand, widened his eyes in fearful recognition and silently opened and closed his mouth as though he were trying to speak. Tavington swiftly dismounted and began to casually walk in their direction. The man's eyes never left that of the Colonel's as the officer reloaded his pistol with such perfected precision that he had no need to see what he was doing, no doubt thanks to muscle memory from repeating the action countless times. He started to edge his way towards the nearby brush from where he and the girl had first appeared but immediately froze when he heard Colonel William Tavington's threatening words.

"Unless you have a death wish, do not attempt to flee. If you wisely surrender yourself to me…I promise that I will ensure you receive a fair trial for your crimes," he stated coolly with a boastful smirk.

When the man said nothing, Tavington's demeanor darkened. He evenly met the thief's gaze and when his words continued to be blatantly ignored, he marched over until he was about an arm's length away and glared hatefully at the man. He then aimed his pistol at the thief's face and clicked back the hammering trigger in warning.

"I should kill you _right now_ …because unlike the young lady over there, I have _not_ been in a merciful mood today. You would be wise to accept my offer," he sneered with contempt.

It really didn't matter what choice the criminal made. Most common thieves earned themselves a prolonged stay in the stockade. The worst of criminals, who committed serious or multiple offenses, were almost always awarded capital punishment. Attempted murder…was one such felony. The thief sealed his fate when he assaulted and nearly killed the young lady. Tavington was going to enjoy watching the man suffer either way. Despite his dark reputation...William was still a gentleman. In his eyes, men who bullied their women, deserved a short drop and a sudden stop.

The Colonel canted his head as he bore holes through the criminal's eyes.

"What shall it be then? Hmm?"

The man was shaking at that point and vigorously nodded his head in agreement and held his hands out in a silent invitation to bind him. Tavington lowered his gun and holstered it in his belt as he gave him a small leer.

" _A wise choice_."

One of the Green Dragoons used rope to securely bind the criminal's hands and then tied them to the saddle of Tavington's horse and forced him to walk. William wasn't going to let the cretin out of his sight…

Then Colonel Tavington turned his complete attention on the young lady.

Her clothing was damp as though she'd been caught in a heavy rain. Her fair face was confused and she looked completely dazed. The British Colonel approached her with caution. He had one hand near his pistol in the event the lady turned hostile. That was a rather foolish assumption, he supposed, as he continued to carefully observe her.

The young girl was swaying unsteadily on her feet. She took a staggering step towards him with an outstretched hand. Before Tavington could blink, her pleading eyes rolled up into her head and she collapsed in an unconscious and rather pitiful heap, the pocket-watch that she'd been clenching in one fist flew out of her grasp and bounced away to land a couple of feet from where she gracefully face-planted.

He inwardly winced. That probably wasn't going to do her head wound, any good. He rushed to her side and gently shook her in an attempt to rouse her. All attempts to wake her failed.

He stood stock still for a moment as he thought about what to do with the girl. If she turned out to be a colonial spy, she would make an excellent catch. Then again, if she turned out to be a loyalist…well…he didn't mind rescuing a damsel in distress once in a while. Colonel William Tavington bent down, intending to scoop her up into his arms but hesitated when he caught sight of something shiny not far from the girl's outstretched palm.

It was a small, golden pocket watch of curious design. It must have flown out of her hand after she fell. He picked it up and stuffed it in his jacket pocket for safe keeping, with the noble intention of returning it to the girl later.

He carefully lifted the girl up into his arms and carried her over to where Captain Bordon was still mounted.

"Bordon. Take her up. She rides with you. Make haste and go on ahead. See to it that she receives proper care at the fort. The rest of us will follow."

"Yes, Sir."

Tavington mounted his horse and looked back at his Dragoons. Captain Bordon placed the young lady directly in front of him and kept one arm wrapped firmly around her waist to prevent another fall. She was slumped forward still dead to the world.

Once satisfied that the Captain had everything under control and that the unconscious girl was secured, Tavington and Maximus began their journey back to the fort, all the while ensuring that the criminal kept up. The Colonel frowned pensively as he watched Bordon and his ward gallop away. There was something about the young lady… he couldn't put his finger on it.

It wasn't just the strange way she was dressed.

It wasn't her unexpected appearance in the woods.

It wasn't the golden pocket watch that was now safely inside his jacket pocket.

No.

He felt as if…he _knew_ her. As though, he'd known her all his life. The sense of familiarity was disturbing. He was certain that he'd never encountered the young lady before. He shook his head and decided to leave the matter alone. For now.

They would all have their answers soon enough…

 **\- 3 hours later –**

Long, dark eye-lashes fluttered open, eliciting a pained groan as Jayne returned to consciousness. Her head was throbbing terribly and it felt like a herd of angry elephants had trampled her. She reached a hand up to gingerly touch her forehead and froze when she felt soft, cotton. It was a cloth bandage wrapped snuggly around her head.

Who used cloth bandages anymore?

Her eyes had yet to adjust to the bright sunlight filtering through the window on the wall to her right. What happened? Where was she?

Once her eyes did adjust, she took in her surroundings and froze in panicked confusion. Everything in the room was…well… _antique_. The large bed she was in, the dresser and vanity across the room, the wardrobe adjacent to the vanity, even the fireplace…everything was of another era. There was a small fire crackling in the hearth and Jayne exhaled a small sigh of relief when she spotted her clothing hanging out to dry.

A maid soon entered, wearing 18th century style clothing. It was nothing fancy, just a plain black dress with a frilly, white apron. The woman appeared to be in her late 30's. She slowly approached Jayne whose eyes were practically bugging out of her head and the maid raised her hands in a supplicating manner to assure her that she wasn't a threat.

"Please don't be frightened, miss. I mean you no harm!" she said soothingly with what sounded to Jayne like an Irish accent.

The maid extended a hand as though to touch her. Jayne shrank back and scrambled desperately to get away but found she couldn't. Her legs were tangled in the bedsheets and the thick bedspread was a bit heavy.

"Stay away!"

The woman stopped her advance and withdrew her hand for a moment and turned concerned, hazelnut eyes on her.

"I only want to touch your cheek, miss. To make sure there is no fever."

Jayne stopped her struggling and paused. She suddenly felt foolish and lowered her eyes.

"I'm sorry. Go ahead," she murmured.

The maid gently touched her cheek with a tender hand. It reminded her of her mother. Whenever she became sick as a child, her mother would do the exact same thing.

"There is no fever…are you thirsty?"

Jayne nodded and watched the kind maid as she excused herself and left the room to fetch the promised drinking water.

Wait…she felt she was missing something! Her addled mind was slow and it was difficult to think due to her head injury.

 _Damn…I must be suffering from a concussion._

Jayne's internal musings were cut short when the maid returned with a tray. A ceramic pitcher and a glass were carefully balanced on it. The woman poured some water from the pitcher into the glass and handed it to Jayne whose face fell when her eyes scrutinized the water. It was a soft brown color, as though someone had dropped a spoonful of dirt in it.

 _What the hell? Why wasn't the water purified?_

This almost jogged her memory. Questions arose to the forefront of her mind. One in particular. She swirled the contents of the glass subconsciously as she met the eyes of the maid.

"This is going to sound like an odd question…but…what is today's date?"

The woman's eyes widened in barely contained surprise.

"It is August 18th…today happens to be a Tuesday."

"That's great. But what _**year**_ is it?"

The older woman's already confused expression deepened.

"What _**year**_? The year is 1775. Are you feeling alright, Miss?" the maid questioned with worry as she resisted the temptation to feel the girl's cheek again.

Jayne's eyes widened when vague pieces began to fall into place. _**She time travelled**_.

"Oh my Lord…it actually worked. No, no…this has to be a dream. A terrible dream! I have to get out of here!"

Jayne resumed her struggle with the bedding and was just about to get free when the maid ran to the door and began shouting for help.

"Oh no…" Jayne moaned with despair. Soon, British guards with loaded guns would appear and then she was up shit creek.

Right as she crowed with triumph, at last ripping herself free, the door burst open. She had about three seconds to assess her current status and was surprised to find herself in a long, soft blue, flannel nightgown.

 _Damn! What the hell happened to my clothes?!_

Her eyes immediately darted to the articles in question that were still drying near the fireplace.

Two red-coats charged in with weapons aimed at her. She raised her hands in surrender with wide, fearful eyes and screamed in panic.

"Please don't shoot me!"

"Soldiers, stand down!" A familiar voice bellowed. The uniformed officer who had given the order appeared in the doorway and entered the room.

The maid was standing across from her in a nearby corner, wringing her hands in apparent distress. Jayne realized her question regarding the current date was what spooked her.

 _Great. They probably think I'm insane._

No sooner had that thought crossed her mind that the officer began to speak.

"Guards, return to your posts."

A soft chorus of "Yes, sir" followed. Then the officer dismissed the maid as well, leaving Jayne alone with him. Jayne thought he looked familiar but couldn't quite place him…

"Good evening. I am Captain Bordon…and you are?"

Jayne glanced behind her as though searching to see if someone else was there. Once she knew for certain he was speaking to her she swallowed nervously and slowly began to inch her way towards the double paned window.

"My name is Jayne. Jayne Peyton."

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he replied as he gave her a small, gentlemanly bow.

"Thank you, Captain."

"Bordon, please," he smiled at her.

"Where…where am I?" she thickly swallowed.

"You are within the carefully guarded walls of Fort Carolina. I promise, no one means you any harm. You are safe here." He answered and then began to approach her.

She gave him a look of distrust as she took a few steps back. He halted his advance.

She frowned pensively.

Strangely enough, her expression seemed rather familiar to Bordon. He could have sworn he'd seen it somewhere before…

"Have we met miss, Peyton?"

"Please, call me Jayne. And no…we have not."

He carefully studied her as though searching for any indications that she was lying to him. He nodded a short minute later.

"My commanding officers would like to meet with you. Help yourself to any of the garments within the wardrobe. I shall be waiting for you outside." With another short bow, he left the room.

Jayne walked over to the wardrobe and frowned. _Dresses_ …how she despised wearing dresses. They always made her feel…well…vulnerable and exposed. Especially if she didn't have a pair of shorts underneath. She hated it! She wandered over to where her old clothes were hanging to dry near the fire and growled with clear displeasure to find that they were still wet. She checked all of the pockets in her cargo pants and felt great anxiety to discover that both her wallet and the golden pocket watch were missing.

Jayne scoured her memory for any clues as to their possible whereabouts and felt despair when she couldn't remember a thing! It was rather frustrating. Her memories of how she came to arrive at Fort Carolina were fractured. The questions of _how_ and _why_ she came to be here were not among them. With a defeated sigh of resignation, she slipped on a purple dress. She was surprised to find that it actually fit. Did they measure her while she'd been unconscious?!

Jayne didn't care to know. She walked over to the mirror above the vanity and studied her appearance. Her head was still bandaged and until she was certain that her wound was truly mending, would leave it on for now. There was no way she was going to risk infection.

She then walked to the door and opened it. Jayne was startled to see two guards posted, one on either side of her doorframe out in the hall. They ignored her as Bordon approached her. With a small grin he offered her his arm.

"You look very nice."

Jayne felt herself blushing and averted her eyes.

"Thank you."

She allowed him to lead her down the hall and up a small flight of stairs. Soon they reached a set of double doors. He knocked once before entering. Inside was a large, nicely furbished room. There were two men currently standing near a table that had a large map sprawled across its surface. One had a wig and the other…

 _Wait…I know that man. I've seen him before._

Her mouth hung open and her eyes widened in recognition. He was the man from her grandfather's photograph!

Suddenly panic twisted at her insides.

 _Oh dear God…please…they better not have found the letter that I left in my wallet!_

She knew it would most likely negatively impact the future if Tavington saw it. Soon her fear began to make her feel sick. Her head began to painfully throb again.

The two men finally ended their discussion and acknowledged her presence as their eyes met hers.

The man with the curly white wig introduced himself first.

"Good evening, young lady. I am General Cornwallis. How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," she responded honestly. She remained guarded as the other two occupants studied her.

"You are very lucky to be alive. Had Colonel Tavington not found you when he did, you might have been lost to us," Cornwallis smiled.

She turned her gaze from the elder man to that of the Colonel. She gave him a small bow of her head. With humility she expressed her gratitude.

"Thank you, for saving my life. I'm in your debt."

He remained rigid as he continued to stand at attention. He had a stoic demeanor and his face remained an impassive mask. It unnerved her.

"No thanks necessary, Madam," he replied curtly.

The General motioned towards a chair.

"Please, sit down. There is much we need to discuss."

With weary eyes, she warily sat down as the other three men followed suit. Once they were all seated, the British general began without preamble.

"There are many questions we have for you. First of all, would you mind introducing yourself?" he questioned pleasantly.

"My name is Jayne. Jayne Peyton."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Peyton. That there is Captain Bordon…" he subtly gestured towards the man to her left before continuing. "And the man across the table from you, is-"

"-Colonel William Tavington…" Jayne abruptly blurted, earning very suspicious stares from the two Dragoons. So she attempted to cover up her idiotic mistake and turned the statement into a question. "…Am I right?"

"Yes, you are correct," Captain Bordon confirmed.

The general looked incredibly displeased at having been cut off mid-sentence. So Jayne hastily tried to make amends.

"I'm sorry for interrupting you, General! It won't happen again."

"Thank you, Miss Peyton. Your apology is accepted. Now that introductions have been well taken care of, this brings us to our second order of business. Please answer the following question truthfully. Are you a loyalist or a colonial?"

Jayne gave them bewildered looks and shook her head.

"I don't understand. What do you mean?"

She glanced around the table and noticed their expressions. Bordon remained passive, Tavington's ice blue eyes were narrowed in undeniable suspicion, and the General was frowning.

"To put it simply, Colonials are the citizens who refuse to recognize King George as the rightful ruler of the thirteen colonies. They are traitors to the crown. The Colonials have been branded rebels and all those who ally themselves with them, are sentenced to death. So which are you?" General Cornwallis questioned with a very severe look.

"Neither."

"It would be in your best interest, to answer _truthfully_ …" Bordon stated softly beside her.

Jayne's eyes darted from one man to the next.

"Are you shitting me?" she scoffed incredulously.

"It's a simple question. Either you are a loyalist…or you aren't," Cornwallis glowered with a warning gleam in his eyes.

Jayne held her head in her hands as though in pain.

"It _isn't_ that simple! I don't belong here. This isn't my home!"

"Where do you live?"

Jayne remained tight lipped.

"Where do you come from? Do you live in one of the colonies?" Bordon asked as he leaned forward in his seat.

There was a nearly imperceptible second when she looked clearly torn, as though unsure of how to answer.

"Miss Peyton?" the general gently prodded.

Jayne seemed to snap out of her brief daze and looked up from where she had been staring down at the table.

"I'm not from around here, if that's what you mean," she replied tersely with a guarded expression.

"Then where **are** you from?" Tavington growled in annoyance as his ire finally surfaced. Patience was a virtue that he clearly lacked. When he wanted answers…he wanted them _immediately_.

Jayne glared defiantly back at him.

"Truthfully…I no longer have a home."

"Care to elaborate?" Cornwallis questioned curiously.

Jayne released a heavy sigh and had to resist the urge to roll her eyes in exasperation.

"No, not really. It's personal. Let's just say that I've lost everything and everyone I've ever loved and cared about…" she said grimly while shooting Tavington a pointed look as though silently daring him to challenge her.

" _I don't believe you_ …" William sneered.

"I don't care if you believe me or not! It's the **TRUTH**!" Jayne shouted indignantly.

"The truth? _Really?_ It sounds more like a story that a spy would undoubtedly spin to save his or her own life," Tavington replied with a disbelieving tone as he nonchalantly swirled some of the wine within his glass as though utterly bored with their conversation, just before downing the rest of it.

"If you don't like my answers, then go outside and **hang** yourself!" Jayne raved with blatant disrespect while glaring daggers at Tavington, who was beginning to look just as livid as she.

"You would be wise, to take care with what you say. You are treading in very dangerous waters, Miss Peyton. That blow to your head must have significantly damaged your intellect. Only a fool with a potential death wish would speak to their superiors in such an openly brazen manner," the Colonel stated coldly with a warning edge.

Jayne bristled with anger driven contempt.

"There is nothing wrong with my intellect, you arrogant asshole! Oh, and just so you know…I refuse to acknowledge an egotistical elitist such as yourself, as my superior. You can think yourself above me all you want but that won't change the fact that you are just another conceited, narcissistic, _ass-wipe_!"

Tavington's dark glare turned murderous as his grip on his now empty wine glass tightened enough that it shattered.

"Let me give you a little _lesson,_ you impudent _**girl**_. I don't know where you are from but in this civilized age, **men** **are** **dominate**. _Women are subservient_. Unless of course, you do not consider yourself a woman?" He gave her a wicked smirk as his voice dripped with disdain.

Now her anger turned into full blown rage. She leapt to her feet and snarled, pointing a finger at his chest. Her eyes burned with hell bent fury and she hissed at him.

"I promise you, I **do** consider myself a lady…but just so you know, I don't have to be a man _**to kick your ass**_!"

Tavington said nothing as he calmly got up and turned his back on her so that he could retrieve a new glass. When he returned, he sat back down and sipped his wine. He gave her that infuriating, wicked smirk and simply met her gaze evenly. If anything…Jayne thought she caught a flash of amusement in his eyes.

" _Colonel_ …Miss Peyton…are the two of you quite finished?" Cornwallis questioned with a pained expression as he rubbed his forehead.

Tavington grunted indignantly in answer as he took another sip of wine.

"Neither of you will be leaving this room until apologies have been exchanged. I expect them to be _**sincere**_ ," the General forewarned.

Jayne glowered darkly and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm sorry General…but I refuse to apologize to a chauvinist pig," she responded firmly without breaking the rather heated staring contest she was having with William.

"And I for one, refuse to apologize to an audacious, ill-mannered, tantrum throwing, little _**child**_ ," he said whilst giving Jayne a darkly amused leer.

She lunged across the table for him with an enraged snarl but a wave of dizziness assaulted her senses, putting an end to her reckless action. She closed her eyes and groaned, reaching a hand up to touch her bandaged head. Her face reflected clear discomfort, possibly even pain. Jayne attempted to sit back down but missed the chair entirely and fell. She growled softly when she heard Tavington's next statement.

"If she keeps collapsing like that…she's going to have permanent brain damage. _If she doesn't already_. That would be a shame. Then I would no longer be able to put the girl in her proper place," he replied snidely while looking down on her in mock pity.

"Colonel Tavington, you have gone _too far_! Your words are hardly becoming of a true gentleman," General Cornwallis snapped in sharp warning.

The Colonel didn't appear to have heard him. He exuded a calm air and when he locked light blue eyes on Jayne's, he only proved that he wasn't perturbed by the reprimand in the slightest. Jayne knew he was really ignoring the General.

Jayne turned hot, angry, tear-filled eyes on the man she was meant to save and spoke barely above a whisper.

" _Everyone was right about you_ …you have no heart _. No soul._ There is _**no love** _in you _."_

Rather than becoming angry, Tavington was shell-shocked. He felt his body stiffen at her words. He would never openly admit it to anyone…but what she said about him, was something he questioned with each passing day. Was he devoid of love? He loved his Sarah. Was that as far as his love would go? He glanced down upon Jayne who was still blinking back tears. His silent musings were cut short when Jayne's condition worsened.

Jayne suddenly felt it hard to breathe and began to take in ragged, gasping breaths of air. _Was she having an asthma or a panic attack?_

Jayne heard the concerned voice of Captain Bordon as he knelt down next to her. As she began to black out again, she thought she saw something barely discernable that was sure to be questioned in the coming week. She saw a subtle, yet guilty grimace, ghost across Colonel William Tavington's face as the man bolted upright from his chair to his feet…but that wasn't all.

Jayne could almost swear, that for the briefest moment-she caught a glimmer of honest worry in his eyes…an honest worry, that was remarkably sincere.

TO BE CONTINUED!


	3. Escape (Part 1)

**LEGACY** : Chapter 3

 **-Aug 18th, 1775-**

The first thing she became aware of, was something wet on her face. Jayne felt terrible. She blearily cracked her eyelids open to find that night had fallen. Beside her bed sat the chamber maid, whose name still escaped her.

"Easy there…" the maid whispered soothingly as she continued to dab a cold washcloth on her flushed face.

"Who are you?" Jayne questioned hoarsely.

"My name is Eliza, miss. I'm going to help take care of you for the remainder of your stay."

"Where am I?"

"Fort Carolina."

"What?"

"Do you not remember?"

Jayne began to shake her head but hissed in pain at the movement. A small bout of dizziness washed over her senses. Eliza told her to remain in bed and that there was someone who wished to see her. Jayne's eyes scanned the room and she noticed that her clothing, the ones she had inadvertently been wearing at the time of her 'rescue' in the woods, were dry and neatly folded on top of the vanity on the other side of the room. Jayne shivered beneath the thick coverlets and knew without a doubt, that she had come down with a fever.

Only a short time later, her bedroom door slowly creaked open and admitted none other than Colonel William Tavington. He was still dressed in his Green Dragoon uniform but his fluffy riding helmet was missing. She noticed that his long hair had been pulled back in a militaristic styled ponytail. His jacket was unbuttoned giving him a more casual look. He nodded curtly to Eliza and dismissed her before claiming the chair next to Jayne's bed. He watched her with sharp, scrutinizing eyes. For the longest time it seemed, he said nothing. He merely observed her…

He kept his intelligent, calculating ice-blue eyes locked on hers. She could practically see the wheels slowly turning in his mind. At last he broke the silence.

"This is how it will work, Miss Peyton. I ask a question. You answer it. Do we understand one another?"

Jayne began to nod but the pain made her wince, halting her mid-motion. She swallowed thickly and replied.

"Yes."

"Very good. We shall start with the most obvious. Who are you?"

"My name is Jayne Peyton"

Tavington rolled his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling in exasperation and then back at her.

"I _**already know**_ your _**name**_. What I need to know, is why you were all alone out in the woods. Are you a spy?"

Jayne stared at him dumbly and then narrowed her eyes when the question finally sank in.

"I'm no spy. I wish I could tell you who I am and how I know you…but you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

" _Try me_ ," Tavington leered with a look that clearly promised pain if she chose not to answer him.

"If I were to tell you…you would simply have me killed."

"So you admit to being a spy then? Are you a spy for the Continental army or for the militia?"

Jayne growled with a dark, albeit weak glare. The illness was dampening her fiery spirit.

"I'm _neither_. I am not a part of your war. _I am neutral_. I don't belong to either side. I live alone."

"Do you really?" he ground his jaw with mounting anger.

"I swear that's the truth!"

"I think not, _little girl_ …" he snidely snapped. He knew she was hiding many secrets…and he was going to stop at nothing to learn them all.

To her astonishment, he pulled her wallet out of his hidden pocket within the folds of his unbuttoned uniformed jacket. With a sly grin, he unzipped the small change section and pulled out a shiny, silver quarter. The color drained from Jayne's face. He met her gaze and gave her a small, triumphant grin. She felt like a mouse that had just been cornered by a starving cat.

"Tell me what this is."

"T-that's nothing! It isn't even mine…" she stammered weakly. He appeared to ignore her as he examined the coin both front and back before returning his sharp, piercing blue eyes on her.

"Is it not?"

With a low growl, he unsheathed a dagger attached to his belt and held it against her throat in warning, while covering her mouth with his other hand to muffle her screams. Her breathing quickened as ice cold fear began to freeze the blood in her veins. _Was he really going to kill her?!_

" _I do not like it_ when people **lie** to me. You will answer me _truthfully_ or you will come to find in time that I can be a _very_ unpleasant fellow when provoked. Now how about we try this again, hmm?" He canted his head with fire in his eyes as he slowly released her.

"What is this?" he held the unknown and yet to be invented American currency up within one hand for her to see. He never took his eyes off of her, no doubt searching her constantly shifting facial expressions to detect any signs that she might be withholding the truth from him.

"It's a form of money. Currency," she answered with a thick swallow as her already dry mouth began to feel as though a wad of cotton had been stuffed inside it.

"Very good. That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

She attempted to swallow again but it felt like her saliva glands had dried up. She shivered as her interrogator locked eyes on hers. Jayne knew she was burning up despite feeling cold. She knew why William Tavington came to visit her while she was ill. Questioning a semi-conscious, fevered brain with mild delirium was probably the closest that one could get to successfully interrogating someone without using truth serum-a drug that, thankfully…had yet to be invented. He continued his merciless questioning.

"The United States of America…" he sniffed with disdain as he once again studied the writing on the coin. "Only the colonials believe that this country should be considered as such. I would gladly label you a spy but alas at the moment, I cannot," his eyes darkened as he leaned forward. "No one has ever seen currency such as this before. _I alone_ know why. See this?" he pointed to a small date printed on the shiny coin.

Jayne remained silent as her eyes darted from first the quarter and then to him.

"If I'm not mistaken, this coin is stamped for the year 2007. What do you make of that?" he questioned as he gave her a small, dark grin. His expression was infuriatingly triumphant.

Jayne knew that she could never reveal that she was a time traveler. If what her grandfather said was true, then she was not going to risk further damaging the already fractured timeline. She remembered watching a time-traveling science fiction movie. One of the quotes that really jumped out at her was the one rule that 'no man should know too much about his own destiny'. It was tempting to just admit the truth. If she did tell him, one of three things would happen. He would either believe that she was a raving lunatic, that she might possibly be a witch that should be burned at the stake, or… _he might actually believe her_. None of them would be to her advantage. So for now, the young time traveler did what she had to do.

Jayne remained tight lipped and refused to answer. She turned her head away to focus her attention on the still crackling fireplace. William Tavington growled and grabbed her hair and yanked on it, forcing her to turn her head towards him.

"You _**will**_ answer me. How did you come by this?"

"I found it in the woods…the date must be a misprint…" she ground out through gritted teeth as her eyes watered from the pain. She tried to sound convincing but her voice wavered.

"What did I tell you about lying to me, girl? Now…I will not ask that question a second time. If you lie to me, _I will know it_. Choose your words carefully…"

Jayne's face turned solemn as she did as he suggested and truly thought about her answer.

"Let me go…and I'll tell you," Jayne whispered moments later. Tavington nodded and released his cruel grip on her hair. He resumed his former, relaxed position in the chair.

Colonel William Tavington gave her a sidelong glance and opened her wallet again to trifle through every nook and cranny to ensure he didn't miss anything and did not grace her with a response. He chose to continue their little interrogation as if she had never spoken. The Colonel emptied the contents of Jayne's wallet which contained her driver's license, credit cards, a few coins in the change compartment, and a color photograph of her mother. Then to her horror, he pulled out the gold pocket watch and the folded letter. Thankfully he gave no indication that he had even read it yet. It surprised her. Reading any form of paper document found in her possession should have been a top priority if they really did suspect her of being a spy. He must have stumbled upon the coin first...which would explain his lack of interest in the note.

"You carry items that have never been seen before. Now…please answer my former questions. _Who_ are you…and _where_ are you from?" he spoke sternly with a hardened expression.

"Has anyone else seen what you now carry?" she whispered whilst sending him a look of frightened desperation.

"No. They have not."

Jayne frowned with a disbelieving look. They had a staring contest until Tavington finally reassured her with a growl.

"Despite what you may believe, I'm a gentleman of my word! If you are truthful to me. I shall be truthful with you."

"I will answer your questions but only if you answer mine," she glowered at him.

Tavington released a long-suffering sigh but finally agreed to her terms. The girl was grating on his nerves. He had to admit that their little chat was thankfully, far from dull. Despite what he wanted to believe, he and Miss Peyton seemed to have much in common. Her fiery temper and her stubborn, defiant nature…along with her apparent fearlessness reminded him of someone he knew quite well. On some aggravating level, he felt as though he were arguing with himself.

"Very well. You first."

"Will you promise me, not to disclose our conversation to anyone else?"

Tavington frowned and shook his head.

"I'm afraid that is something I cannot promise, Miss Peyton. Though I can assure you, I will keep our little chats private unless you reveal important information that might benefit his majesty's campaign. That is not what I am truly interested in at the moment. I would very much like to know more about _you_."

Then like lightning, the missing details involving her time traveling experience seared through her brain to the point of being mildly painful. She released a small, pained cry and held both hands up to either side of her head as the room began to spin from a bout of vertigo. She nearly blacked out but felt a large, calloused hand lightly slapping her cheek to keep her lucid.

"Miss Peyton. What happened? Are you alright?"

Did Tavington's voice actually sound… _concerned_? Her eyes cracked open and she licked her dry lips.

"I remember…I remember everything," she mumbled.

Colonel Tavington nodded curtly in understanding and glanced down at the objects on the bedspread next to Jayne and then to her feverish eyes. She might have imagined it…but Jayne thought for the briefest second, she had seen worry cross his face. William sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in silent contemplation.

Much to Jayne's morbid displeasure, he forced her to take a few sips of the unpurified, brownish water before continuing. She coughed and spluttered as William tried to coax it down her throat. He helped her sit up in bed and gave her backside a few good pats to help clear her air passages. She made a disgusted face but had to admit that despite the earthy taste, it felt good to quench her thirst.

"What is this gold timepiece? It has a most curious design… Where did you get this?"

He pursed his lips with furrowed brows.

"My grandfather gave it to me. It has been in my family for generations," Jayne murmured as she attempted to get more comfortable on the mound of pillows behind her.

Tavington raised an eyebrow with a skeptical smile.

"Generations, you say? Surely that can't be true. There's barely a scratch on it. Tell me, when and where was this timepiece made?"

Jayne began to feel herself begin to slip away. She was tired…so, so tired. All she wanted now was rest. She was tired of all of these questions. It was hard to think.

"I don't know where…but it was made in 1893. It ended up… found its way into the possession of my…of my…" Jayne trailed off as she displayed signs of passing out again. She wasn't even aware that she made a very critical slip up.

Tavington softly growled in aggravation. He didn't need this right now! She had to stay awake! He needed answers! He reached over to the nearby basin on the nightstand beside him and splashed cold water on her face.

She became consciously aware for about ten seconds before slipping away again. Tavington snarled softly in frustration. He was well known for his temper. He had to resist the urge to throw something across the room. What could he do that would keep Jayne aware enough for them to hold a brief conversation?

That's when he got an idea…

He picked up the washcloth laying in the basin. He twisted the cloth to wring out the cold water and then began to gently dab at Jayne's hot forehead and rosy cheeks. He paused in his ministrations to silently regard her. Jayne's eyes were closed and a subconscious expression of misery, no doubt suffering from the merciless illness pounding away at her, crossed her face. To his own dismay, he found himself tenderly reaching a hand out to smooth the girl's hair down. With a gentleness that belied his gruff nature, he swept a few stray strands of her short, unkempt hair out of her face with a soft touch.

It was strange. For reasons unknown to him, his gentle ministrations felt… _right_ …somehow. Well, at least when it came to Jayne.

Colonel William Tavington never considered himself to be a soft man. His reputation always preceded him. _The Butcher_ , they called him. Perhaps that was because he never had qualms about taking the lives of innocent women and children…at least, not during the course of a war. His brutal methods oftentimes proved effective enough. He inspired fear within his enemies. Through that fear, he maintained control. One of the reasons why he committed such… _brutish_ acts…was to break the spirits and morale of any who dared to oppose him and the British army.

So the fact that he was currently taking the time to care for this girl…

No. He wasn't caring. He was just keeping her lucid enough to answer his questions.

 _Then why couldn't he make himself believe it?_

Tavington didn't realize that he had been running a hand gently over her head to smooth her hair. He only became aware of it when she leaned into his touch. He withdrew his hand as though a viper had tried to bite him. He frowned, though still in silent contemplation as he watched her. She remained oblivious to his inner turmoil. As the minutes passed it became very clear to him that she was delirious. Yet, some of the things that spewed from her mouth, sounded like the truth.

" _Jayne? Can you hear me?_ " Tavington whispered with furrowed brows. A large part of him did not want to disturb her rest. Jayne seemed to have a very strange effect upon him. She constantly appealed to his better nature. It no doubt had to do with the mysterious kinship he was beginning to feel between the two of them.

"Grandfather… gave me…1893. James…"

Finally, the Colonel believed he was at last getting somewhere. She was slowly divulging a name...

"Go on. Does this James have a last name?" he gently prodded.

"James…1798…"

The Colonel released a small growl of frustration. He would have to wait until she recovered to continue their interview. Her state of mind was questionable at the moment. He made to stand but abruptly sat back down when Jayne croaked out a _very familiar_ last name.

"…Hewitt. James…"

Tavington froze and stared at the delirious girl with disbelief. Had he really heard that right? Was this James Hewitt related to his beloved Sarah?

"What else can you tell me, Jayne…" he questioned softly as he resumed his task of using the cold washcloth to bring down her fever.

Jayne began to mutter incoherent nonsense as sweat began to bead on her brow. The fever began to worsen as did her delirium. William was however, able to discern a few words.

"No…time…out of time…lost…"

Tavington released a heavy sigh that came out as a half growl, as he used a thumb and an index finger to pinch the bridge of his nose. Now the girl wasn't making any sense. What did that mean? _Out of time?_ With a sigh of resignation, he stood from where he had been sitting for the past hour and placed everything back into the wallet before stuffing it inside his coat pocket. He had yet to rummage through and study the rest of her foreign belongings.

Tavington did tell Jayne the truth. He did not yet show anyone what she possessed. For a reason he could not explain, he had a strong gut feeling to keep silent.

Right now, he planned to go straight to bed. Perhaps the following day would shed more light upon the mystery surrounding Jayne Peyton…

 **\- Aug 19th 1775 –**

It was three in the morning. Jayne's fever broke a mere half-hour ago but she still felt pretty awful. She knew that she had to escape Fort Carolina. So far it didn't look like the Brits were taking kindly to her story regarding her innocence. They would no doubt kill her in the not-so-distant future once they combed through the photographs, journal, her wallet, and inevitably…the love letter between Tavington and Sarah Hewitt. It was a miracle that the hot tempered Colonel hadn't read it yet.

The thought did cross her mind that by fleeing, she would undoubtedly make herself appear hopelessly guilty. She had a feeling that everything would work itself out eventually and decided not to worry about it. She would cross that bridge when she got there. If anything, she needed to escape in order to bury and hide her 21st century belongings. The colonel had already seen far too much…

Without making a sound, she slid off her bed and tip-toed to the vanity and changed out of the damp night gown and made a disgusted face. The gown was drenched with sweat. Jayne wasted no time in pulling on her cargo pants, long-sleeved tee shirt, and picked up her modern day, black combat boots. She left her hoodie on top of the vanity for the time being.

Then at the last moment, she made a decision that she prayed wouldn't cost her, her life. She gently set the boots down at the foot of her bed and found a clean night dress and a robe. She slipped them on over her 21st century clothing. If she was going to pull off a successful escape…then she had to play this smart.

Jayne opened the door and encountered two red-coats guarding her room. In the dim candle lighting, she was able to see that they were not the same pair that had been keeping watch yesterday afternoon. The two guards were young, one of them was her age and the other might have been in his early thirties. They both were quite handsome. The younger one had blonde hair and blue eyes, while the other had dark brown hair and soft brown eyes. They turned to regard her and began to protest. She held up a hand to stop them mid-sentence and gave them a pleading look.

"Please…I need to use the uhh..." she tapped her fingers against her head, trying to remember what the hell the bathroom was called in the late 1700's. "…the lavatory."

"The, what…Madame?" The guard questioned quizzically with a raised eyebrow as though he'd never heard the term before.

"You know…the place you go when you have to…you know…" she glowered as she did the infamous 'Potty-dance' in the hopes they would understand. Thankfully they did as one of them, the youngest one, blushed and averted his eyes while the other had apparent recognition dawning upon his face.

"Ah, yes. You wish to use the chamber pot! I will have someone send for it right away." He turned as though to leave and Jayne stopped him.

"I'd rather not inconvenience you both. Not to mention taking care of my personal needs is a _private_ act. Please, tell me how to get to Eliza's room?"

"Simply go up the first flight of stairs and take the hallway to your right. Her bedchamber is the third door down on the left."

The elder guard elbowed the younger roughly in the ribs and glared at him.

" _Are you mad?!_ We can't let her wander off by herself! We're supposed to be guarding her, you idiot!"

The younger guard flinched at the reprimand and turned a guilty expression on Jayne.

"I'm sorry, Miss. We can't allow you to roam these halls without an escort. Orders are orders."

Jayne was about to protest but snapped her mouth shut when the elder guard smiled and stepped forward, offering her his arm. "Please, allow me, my lady."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise and accepted his silent invitation to act as her escort.

"Thank you both," she gave them a small smile that she hoped didn't look too forced, for her sake. The last thing she needed, were two suspicious red-coats eyeballing her every move.

Jayne allowed her escort to guide her towards her intended destination and kept quiet as they made their way to Eliza's room.

"Please have Eliza escort you back to your room, Miss. We will return to our post and wait for you there."

"Thank you."

Jayne watched both red-coats until they disappeared around the corner that led to the stairwell. She rapped on the door softly with her knuckles and was relieved when a sleep filled voice call out a soft "come in" from the other side. The young time traveler entered and gave Eliza a small smile.

"I'm so sorry to disturb you, I know it's late. I'm afraid I couldn't wait until morning. I was wondering if it would be possible for you to help me with something."

"Why yes, Miss. Anything."

Jayne shifted from foot to foot nervously. Thankfully, she didn't really have to pee and had instead sought out the woman in the hopes she could aid her in her escape.

"Eliza, I need to know where Colonel Tavington sleeps. I need to retrieve something of mine that I know must still be in his possession."

The maid's eyes widened and she shook her head vehemently. She spoke frantically, barely above a whisper.

"No, Miss Jayne! You can't do that! The Colonel is a cruel, mean spirited man. He will hurt you!"

"He will have to catch me first," Jayne grinned with optimistic confidence. Inside though, she was screaming in stark terror. The interrogation at his hands last night…well, she knew it could have been far worse. Compared to interrogating his real enemies, he had probably been **nice** to her. She knew well enough about Tavington's savage reputation and the last thing she wanted was to get on his bad side. Jayne knew it was going to be far worse if she stayed. It would corrupt the timeline, possibly beyond repair, if these 18th century men had even the smallest glimpse of the future. It would seem the Colonel already had upon his discovery of her wallet. Thankfully, if he was indeed telling her the truth, no one else had seen it.

So now, to ensure the safety of the future, she had to claim it back. It was going to be no easy feat, of that she was certain.

"Miss Jayne, they will execute me if they find out I was helping you!" Eliza brought one hand near her throat, no doubt imagining a noose around her neck.

"I promise Eliza, I will never let that happen. I can tell you why… here is the plan."

For the next twenty minutes, the two women conspired softly within the safe confines of Eliza's room. At last, Jayne Peyton was prepared. Eliza escorted her back to her room but not before they snuck into the kitchen to grab a midnight snack.

The young time traveler approached the guards standing at attention on either side of her doorpost after wishing Eliza good-night. In Jayne's arms, she had a tray with bread, cheese, and wine. Jayne gave them a kind smile and gestured for them to enter the room with her. They immediately protested.

"No, we can't. I'm sorry, Miss. It's against regulations," the blue eyed lad admitted.

"Isn't…isn't that wine the property of General Cornwallis?" the other guard questioned with wide, frightened eyes. Jayne simply played coy.

"I will be sure to return whatever is left. We can always blame it on Colonel Tavington now, couldn't we? Am I not mistaken when I say, that the man fancies more than one drink when he is visiting the dear General?"

The two guards glanced at each other with sly grins. It was clear to see from their expressions that they would love nothing more, than to find some way to see Tavington take the fall for something he was completely innocent of.

"Come with me. No one else is up at this hour. It's just the three of us," she held the tray up for them to smell.

Jayne could plainly tell that the soldiers were in fact, very hungry…and if the lust in their eyes was any indication, they were starved not just for food but for company as well. Thankfully they still maintained a sense of honor and still conducted themselves as gentlemen.

Now it was time to play coy seductress. For Jayne, it was something she was **not** happy doing. She was a tomboy for a _reason_. The young woman pushed aside unpleasant thoughts revolving around her dark past and focused on her mission. Thankfully she had taken a couple of drama courses as extra curriculum in both high school and college. It was time to put those acting skills to the test…

Jayne entered her room and set the tray down on her night stand and walked back out.

She leaned against the younger guard's chest and purred in his ear.

"How about you both come in only one at a time. We can eat and relax together. You will still be guarding me…you'll just be… _a little closer_ ," she whispered silkily.

She felt a small shiver race through the uniformed guard and felt her lips quirk in a partial smile.

"So what do you say?" she whispered as she ran a smooth hand against the side of his clean shaven face.

He readily agreed, unable to resist temptation any longer.

"I suppose I'll be returning for _you_ later…" Jayne winked at the second guard.

The guard on the left, the youngest one of the two whom she'd been leaning against, entered the room with Jayne. They shut the door behind them and Jayne gave the red-coat a seductive smile.

"I'm going to need you to turn around while I undress. Please, help yourself to those refreshments. You've earned them, _my handsome soldier_."

Jayne nearly threw up in her mouth at those words but still forced them out and made them sound incredibly believable.

He did as she requested. He turned his back on her and bit into a piece of bread and broke off a small hunk of cheese. She removed her robe and the night gown, leaving her in her 21st century clothing. Now she was freed up to perform a rather impressive take-down maneuver. Jayne was a school black belt in Taekwondo. They were about to be in for quite a shock…

"So…which one are you?"

The young red-coat, the blonde haired one spoke softly around a mouthful of bread, still looking down at the tray with his back turned to her.

"Edward Millington."

"That's a good strong name…for a good strong man," she replied pleasantly.

Jayne was so thankful that the young soldier wasn't much taller than her. It would make things so much easier. Then while he was still distracted, she grappled him from behind and pulled him into a firm, very controlled choke hold. Jayne pulled them both down to the bed and kept a strong arm wrapped firmly around his neck and head and used her other to cover his mouth. When the soldier began to kick his polished boots against the bedpost and the floor… and just made noise in general while he struggled against her, Jayne's eyes widened.

 _ **Shit!**_

If she was discovered now…she would never again have another chance to escape. She wracked her panicked brain for a solution and finally found one, although it wasn't one she was going to be very proud of…

To her own disgusted horror she forced herself to make theatrical sounds of her own to overshadow Edward's…and even cried out his name in supposed passion.

Hopefully the second guard outside would simply believe that she and Edward were simply getting their freak on and wouldn't enter to investigate.

 _Dear God, I'm gonna be sick…Tavington better be worth this shit or I swear, I will kill the man myself!_

Soon, Edward went limp in her arms and she released him from the choke hold with a relieved sigh. After she was certain that he was going to be out for a while, she stripped him of his uniform. She pulled on the red-coat's jacket over her long-sleeved T-shirt and was relieved to find that the young man had been a couple of sizes bigger than her so she was able to also pull his pants on over her cargos without arousing suspicion. After Jayne studied herself in the mirror, thankful her hair was cut so short, already giving her a somewhat boyish look…she pulled on his hat after inspecting it. She shuddered. The last thing she wanted was to wake up one morning to find her hair infested with lice. They probably didn't even check for that in this time era.

Unfortunately for her, she had to move Edward's body from off of the bed. It was no easy feat, now that the unconscious man was as limp and heavy as a sack of bricks. The springs in the bed squeaked while she pulled him off of the bed, causing Jayne to make grunting sounds from the exertion and then snorted with a roll of her eyes when she realized how perverse the noises really were given her present circumstances.

In a matter of minutes, she had successfully dressed poor oblivious Edward in her former nightwear and shoved the upper half of his body beneath the bed, having had the genius insight to pull long, thick stockings over his hairy legs and manly feet.

She took the time to briefly admire her work and had to contain a giggle. It almost looked as though it were she who was half hidden beneath the bed…

Jayne picked up Edward's musket and grinned at herself in the mirror.

 _Time to take care of her 'second lover'…_

TO BE CONTINUED!

* * *

Author's Note: I would like to thank my lone reviewer for encouraging me to continue this story. :) Chapter 4 has already been written and just needs revising before I post it. Thanks for reading!


	4. Escape (Part 2)

**LEGACY** : Chapter 4

 **-Aug 19** **th** **, 1775-**

Jayne, now dressed in her disguise, walked over to the door. Minutes ago, she had used the pitcher of water to extinguish the tiny flames still flickering within the dying fire. All of the candles within the room had been blown out, bathing the room in darkness with the exception of soft moonlight shining through the large, double paned windows. She cracked the door open and whispered loud enough for the second guard to hear her from where he remained at rigid attention beside the doorframe.

"Pssst! I need your help with something…Edward drank a little too much wine I'm afraid…and he can't dress himself."

She stepped behind the door to conceal her uniform and to allow him to enter. The first thing that the second soldier saw was what appeared to be a young woman…sprawled on the floor half-way beneath the bed directly ahead of him. He turned his head about to question Miss Peyton, only to be met with an unknown British guard.

Jayne's eyes were soft and full of regret in the moonlight as she reared back the butt of the musket and whispered a quick apology.

"I'm very sorry about all of this!"

Then she cracked the young man hard in the head and deftly reached one hand out to grasp the front collar of his uniformed jacket and prevented him from collapsing loudly on the wooden floor. She slowly lowered him down to lay in an unceremonious heap upon the bed. He weighed a bit more than Edward and she'd nearly fallen down with him. Thanks to her Taekwondo training, she knew enough how to ground and center her own weight to prevent such a fall and implemented such a tactic.

She breathed a sigh of relief once she accomplished phase one of her plan. Both of the guards were unconscious but they would no doubt awaken again within the hour. Jayne took the bayonet off of the musket and propped the gun against the wall beside the night stand and used the sharp secondary weapon to cut strips of sheets. She then tightly bound their hands behind their backs and also tied their ankles together.

" _Damn…what I would give for some duct tape right about now…"_ she muttered softly to herself.

Jayne rolled a strip of cloth together and stuffed it into their mouths and then used another strip to wrap around their faces to further muffle any attempted cries for help. After ensuring that they were secured well enough she gave them one last look and turned about to leave when another bright idea popped into her head like a light bulb.

It was one thing to tie them up individually. That wasn't going to be enough. They could easily crawl or hop their way out of the room. There was a wonderful way to remedy that…

Jayne took a few more strips and pulled the other guard over to where Edward was currently laying on his side and placed both men back to back. She took each of their bound hands and connected them with another strip. Then she tied the men's legs, ankles, and their individually tied hands together…connecting them both as one.

She would love to see them try to get out of that. She had to choke back a laugh. Jayne wondered who would be the first to find them later. It would be hilarious if it turned out to be Tavington…

Jayne knew she was running out of time. She didn't need her pocket watch to tell her that. It would be dawn soon…a quick glance out of the window showed the moon slowly sinking down into the horizon.

Fortunately, Tavington only took her wallet. He must have been so focused on the futuristic things inside of it that the idea of sorting through the other nick knacks must have slipped his mind.

Jayne reattached the bayonet to the rifle and slung the strap over her shoulder after ensuring that the stolen uniform was straightened out. Then she made sure her hat was secure and that it was in no danger of accidentally falling off her head. To further disguise herself, she took a little charcoal—now cooled off and perfectly safe to touch—from the nearby fireplace and rubbed it on her face. She was prepared to walk right out of the door when she realized with an internal groan that she had a serious problem.

 _Her footwear._

If she chose to wear her black combat boots from the year 2017…it would easily give her away. Yet, she couldn't leave them here. It would impact the course of the future. She cursed softly and felt her stomach flutter with anxiety. What was she supposed to do? She already tried on the boots of both soldiers and they were too big!

That's when she slapped a hand against her forehead. How could she be so stupid?! There was such an easy way to remedy her little dilemma.

She walked over to the dresser and found socks. She pulled on a few pairs and layered her feet. When she tried on Edward's military boots a second time, they finally fit! Jayne knew it was going to be risky but she had no other choice. Grabbing her 2017 footwear, she wrapped them and concealed them within a torn off sheet, and then left the room after quietly closing the door behind her. She began to walk as softly as she could back up the stairs.

Colonel William Tavington's room was on the third floor.

Her heart began to pound to the point it felt like it was going to beat clear out of her chest the closer she got. She swallowed nervously and her throat went dry. Soon, she found herself standing right in front of Tavington's room. Carefully setting her boots down, Jayne silently propped the musket against the wall. Then after wiping sweaty palms on the sides of her trousers…she grasped the brass door knob and slowly turned it.

Jayne barely breathed as she carefully pushed the door open inch by inch but had to stop when a soft creak emanated from one of the door hinges, causing her to freeze mid-step when her eyes spotted William Tavington, resting on his bed. He shifted in his sleep at the noise but thankfully didn't awaken. Jayne prayed he was a deep sleeper. She took her time opening the creaky door centimeter by centimeter until there was enough room for her to squeeze through.

Jayne spotted Tavington's Green Dragoon uniform laying on a nearby chair. What she could only assume was a belt, since it had a large golden buckle attached to it, was hanging over his jacket. His fluffy riding helmet was perched on his nightstand table, right on top of his folded military trousers. The Colonel himself was dressed in his white undershirt and tan leggings and his shoulder length, reddish-brown hair was unbound. Soft snores escaped his lips as he hugged one of his pillows against his chest. He looked so… _vulnerable_ …when he was asleep. He appeared peaceful…and dare she even think it… _innocent_. She felt a small degree of protectiveness flood her senses in that moment.

The young time traveler shook her head as though to clear her thoughts and resumed her stealthy snatch-and-grab mission. A small gleam caught her eye in the dim moonlight. Her eyes widened minutely when she noticed that his sword was propped precariously against the nightstand.

Jayne carefully moved his sheathed sword and set it down on the floor to eliminate the chance of it falling. Getting caught red-handed by Tavington would undoubtedly have very nasty consequences.

Slowly, she bent down once she reached the green jacket and began to search the pockets for her confiscated wallet. Soon she found it and carefully extracted it. Then she stealthily stood, turned around, and began to edge herself back towards the door. The young woman had to stop again when one of the floor boards beneath her creaked. With a cringe and a wince…she glanced over her shoulder to see that Tavington was still sound asleep, although he was mumbling incoherently while he slept.

Jayne hardly dared herself to breathe until she made it safely out of his room. This time however, she did not close the door. There was no way in hell that she was going to put her escape plans in jeopardy because of a squeaky hinge. She picked up the musket that she'd left in the hall and slung it over her shoulder carefully and then retrieved her boots.

A breath hitched in her throat when she passed another red-coat in the hall. They simply gave each other a cordial nod and went on their way. Then to her horror she saw that the soldier was heading straight for Colonel Tavington's room!

" _Shit…"_

A cursory glance out of the nearest window revealed the first, soft golden rays of daylight peeking over the eastern horizon. She picked up her pace and abandoned stealth entirely and simply ran down the stairs. She walked outside but made sure not to rush to avoid suspicion. Keeping her head low, she made it to the stables.

Thankfully, nobody questioned her and nobody was currently tending to the horses. She went to the nearest stall and smiled at the beautiful black stallion with a white patch running down the length of his head and snout. Jayne searched the nearby area and found an empty deerskin satchel and a small bag of oats. The horse softly neighed when she approached him with a handful and nibbled at them once she offered them to him.

She reached a tentative hand out and lightly touched the horse's soft, velvety nose and spoke soothingly to him. Thankfully, her uncle Jonathan taught her how to ride when she was younger. She entered the stall slowly so as not to spook the beautiful creature and grabbed the bridle and gently slipped it over the stallion's head and positioned the bit in his mouth.

Jayne made a last minute decision and chose not to saddle him. She figured it would be quicker to ride bareback. She had done so before around the time her uncle Jonathan first taught her. He made her learn how to ride bareback before teaching her how to use a saddle. Now that she had a bag to conceal her 21st century belongings in, she stuffed her boots, wallet, her great-great grandfather's journal, the photographs, the Hewitt letter, and her hoodie inside of it and slung the strap over her shoulders.

She was running out of time. Any second someone would sound the alarm. She had to escape Fort Carolina… _ **now**_.

Colonel William Tavington was no doubt already awake and prowling through the Fort. He would probably stop by her former guest room, only to find her missing. Jayne could only image the expression on his face once he found those guards…

Jayne slung the Musket strap over her chest, allowing the gun itself to rest against her back. There was a nearby bucket and she used it as a stepping stool. With one swift movement, she deftly mounted the horse. He was a big one. As she slowly encouraged him to leave the stall, something shiny caught her eye. It was a breastplate for the horse… it was hanging on a hook next to where the bridle had been. She made out a name: _**Maximus**_

Sudden recognition and realization dawned upon her in the form of a question.

 _Who rode these horses?_

Then it hit her. Of course. The Green Dragoons. Who else?

"Shit…" she breathed. That was becoming her new favorite word of the day. As the stall door swung closed of its own accord, her blue eyes widened when she made a startling discovery.

 _How had she missed that?!_

There written on the stall on a golden placard was a name printed in large bold letters.

 _ **Colonel William Tavington**_

"Oh my God…I just stole his horse…"

Jayne felt nauseated. It was now or never. This was her one and only chance to escape!

With the soft tap of her boot against Maximus's flank, she urged him into a run. They rode out of the stable and headed towards the closed gate. She gestured and waved in urgency for people to move out of the way, lest they be trampled. The guards at the gate carefully watched her approach and she screamed at them with the best British accent imitation she could muster.

"Bloody fools! Get out of the way! The prisoner escaped!"

Without question, they opened the doors and watched her leave and then closed the gate after her. Jayne did not stop. If anything, she urged Maximus into a faster run.

Was it just her? Or did her "escape" seem far too easy?

Not a moment after that thought, she heard loud shouting from the Fort and a ringing bell sounded an alarm. She glanced behind her and saw about four of the Green Dragoons riding after her.

" **SHIT!"**

Jayne encouraged Maximus to increase his pace, breaking into a full blown gallop. She leaned forward until she was practically hugging his neck to increase their speed. There was less drag if she flattened herself. Before long, they entered a nearby forest…leaving Fort Carolina far behind them. Jayne still heard the angry shouts of the Green Dragoons.

Thankfully they weren't shooting at her. No doubt Colonel Tavington wanted to ensure he recaptured his prize horse unscathed.

It sounded like they were catching up. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed it. The leader of the pursuing party was—

"SHIT! SHIT!" she screamed as she tried desperately to stay ahead of them.

 _It was Colonel William Tavington…and he looked_ _ **pissed.**_

She directed Maximus to run off the beaten path and through actual foliage. She knew it was dangerous for a horse but so far, the Stallion seemed to know what he was doing, with or without her guidance. Not far off, she could see a bridge. Jayne urged him on and circled around and under it rather than riding over it. Tavington and his men might not be able to see her from this angle. She swiftly dismounted and softly urged Maximus to lay down in the small stream with her.

He apparently didn't like it much but obeyed her order just the same. She gently stroked his nose and whispered in his ear.

" _Steady Maximus…steady…"_

Her breath got caught in her throat when at last the Green Dragoons made it to the bridge she was hiding beneath. They stopped…as though they were listening intently for something. A sign perhaps that either she or Maximus were nearby. The voice of William Tavington soon rang through the air.

"Captain Bordon, take Charles with you and take the eastern trail. I will continue on with James. Remember gentlemen, I want her and Maximus **ALIVE**."

A chorus of "Yes, Sir" echoed through the still air. Moments later, she heard the sound of four horses galloping onward. Jayne released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She remained still for another minute or so to ensure that they had truly gone. Then she got up, sliding onto Maximus's back as he arose to stand. He neighed softly and she gave him a gentle shush.

Now where the hell was she supposed to go?

She knew that Bordon and his partner were traveling east. Then which direction did Tavington and his man ride? The last thing she wanted was to accidently cross paths with any of them.

Jayne was relieved to see that the sun had entirely appeared above the eastern horizon. Which meant if she wanted to go west, she needed to ride with the sun on her back. She deduced that Fort Carolina was in a Northerly direction. Did that mean that Tavington rode south?

She used her favorite word for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

"Shit."

Jayne gently nudged Maximus forward with her heel and they began to ride southwest. They rode for a good hour before she stopped and allowed Maximus to drink from a nearby stream. There was an apple tree not far off and she figured that the two of them deserved a snack. Jayne couldn't remember the last time she had eaten. She climbed up and picked a few and then shimmied down. Walking over to Maximus, she gently stroked him as she offered him one of the glistening green apples. He eagerly ate it and then used his nose to gently nudge her. He nickered softly as though in thanks.

Jayne laughed in amusement and gave him a small pat. Then she took the leather bag containing her boots, hoodie, photographs, the letter, the journal, and her wallet out. She stuffed the photographs and letter inside her wallet and then the wallet and journal inside her boots. Jayne wrapped the boots within her hoodie in the hopes they would be better protected from the elements and replaced them inside the bag. It escaped her notice that the silver key that went to her grandfather's chest was missing…

Once her possessions were securely bundled, she dug a hole beneath the tree and buried the satchel there at its base. In time, she promised herself that she would return to reclaim them.

Then she began to pick more apples and eagerly wrapped them up in the small white sheet that had originally contained her boots. Later she would wash them in a stream, preferably one that wasn't muddy. She suddenly froze when she heard the snapping of a twig nearby. She dropped lithely down from her perch on a low branch to land at the base of the tree and listened intently.

 _They were not alone…_

Jayne slowly crouched down and unslung the musket from where it had been resting snuggly against her back. She had a feeling who might be in the area. She slowly dropped the gun behind her and then sank down to her knees. She raised her hands and interlaced them behind her head in surrender. Seconds later, Continental soldiers garbed in their standard blue and white uniforms revealed themselves and entered the clearing. They encircled her with guns aimed at her head.

"I surrender," she stated honestly.

"Yeah, I'm sure you do…" one of the men sneered.

 _Ah shit. They probably think I'm a man! And a red-coat at that!_

That revelation deserved a "double-shit". Only this time she didn't speak it out loud. It was in that moment, she decided that she would continue to play the role of a young man. She wasn't stupid. She knew that in wartime…in _any_ war…female prisoners were abused the worst.

Jayne figured she'd gotten lucky at Fort Carolina simply because General Cornwallis maintained a proper, gentlemanly form of order amongst the ranks.

It appeared that there were only ten Continental troops but it was possible that there were more lurking in the vicinity. One of the soldiers roughly pushed her down to the ground and used rope to tie her hands behind her back.

"I will come with you willingly…but please let the horse return to his rightful master!"

The Colonials laughed as if they'd heard a good joke.

"You think we would waste a perfectly good horse? I don't think so. This fine animal is now the property of the Continental army!"

The one who finished binding her hands hauled her to her feet.

Two of the men attempted to restrain Maximus but he bucked and then broke out into a run. They uttered a string of profane curses and the two men began to chase him as he fled the area. They returned empty handed about three minutes later, looking _very_ unhappy.

Jayne hoped that Tavington found Maximus. It really was ironic, she mused…to realize that Tavington, the man she'd been desperately attempting to flee from, had become her only hope of rescue. Especially now that she didn't know what was to become of her…

"Let's go!" the leader of the bunch bellowed as he roughly grabbed her upper arm and began to yank her along.

"Where are we going?" she dared to ask.

One of the men who was walking beside her, slapped her upside the head and knocked her hat off. Surprisingly they didn't bother to pick it up but left it behind.

"Shut it! One more word and I'll shoot you," he snarled.

 _Weren't they a lovely bunch…_

Hell, the British treated her better than this!

They walked through the forest for what felt like hours until they reached a clearing. There was a small campsite with a fire pit and a few white pitched tents. There was a vertical log sticking up from the ground and they shoved her towards it. Before she could protest or explain herself, they gagged her then proceeded to tie her to the post. The irony of being gagged and tied was not lost on her as her thoughts drifted back to the two British soldiers at Fort Carolina.

The Colonials untied her bound hands only to pull them backwards, _painfully_ , so that they could simply tie them again behind the log.

One of the men chose that moment to unexpectedly punch her in the gut. It knocked the wind out of her and she glared daggers at him. The man sized her up and down. He shook his head with a grunt as though she wasn't worth his time before sauntering away. Most of the men went to sit around a campfire.

They laughed, talked, and ate around the fire for a while.

While they were distracted, Jayne used the opportunity to attempt to free herself but came to find that they had done an extremely good job knotting the ropes. She was not one to give up so easily and stubbornly persisted. The thought occurred to Jayne that even if she miraculously managed to free herself, she wouldn't get very far. The Continental's outnumbered her three to one. She did a silent head count and from what she could gather, their small encampment currently housed at least twenty five soldiers, maybe more. Eventually, she had to admit defeat when she at last realized that she was hopelessly, at their mercy.

About thirty minutes later, the leader—a Captain if she read his rank insignia correctly—walked up to her with a gleaming knife in his hands. The man stood there watching her as though sizing her up and down. He sheathed the knife on his belt and shook his head with a 'tsk'.

"You know…most of my men think I should just save us all some aggravation and shoot you now rather than drag you all the way across God's good creation. Me? I'm an honorable man. I'd like to get to know my prisoners before I choose whether they live or die. If in the future I do condemn you to death, I promise to give you a quick and merciful end. Sound fair?"

Her eyes widened and then she clenched them shut with a muffled scream when he grabbed her roughly by the hair and yanked her head upwards. He brought his face close to hers and growled deeply.

"I said… _does that sound fair_?"

With tears glistening in her eyes, she nodded in the affirmative.

"Good. Now. I'm going to remove that gag and ask you some questions. If I don't like the answers, you'll become thoroughly acquainted with the word called 'pain'. Got it?"

She nodded vigorously again. He took his knife, and rather than untie her gag, he simply cut it off. Jayne stretched her jaw.

"Alright. First question. Why are you out here alone?"

"You know, Colonel Tavington asked me that same question when he-"

The Colonial officer snarled and roughly backhanded her and then roughly gripped her chin.

"I don't want long winded answers, boy! Make them short and simple. Got it?"

She didn't respond and instead glared at him defiantly. This earned her another punch to the gut.

"You and Tavington would make good friends. This is the same interrogation he—"

The Colonial reared a fist back and punched her in the face, causing her already abused head to crack back against the wooden post directly behind her. She winced in pain as stars exploded in her vision.

"I don't give a damn about Colonel Tavington! I want to know why YOU are out here all alone! Which brings me to my next question. Are you a spy? Or worse yet, a deserter?"

"What?! No!"

He looked unconvinced and gently traced his gleaming, silver knife against her cheek.

"I'm afraid I don't believe you. You speak with an accent befitting a Colonial settler…yet you are dressed as a red-coat. Tell me _why_."

"I was captured by the red-coats near Fort Carolina. They took me prisoner. I stole a uniform, and I also stole that stallion back there…you know, the one that ran off? And I escaped."

"Wow, son. That is some story…unfortunately it sounds more like an elaborate lie than the truth," he growled with a dangerous glint in his eyes. He roughly grabbed her throat and began to choke her. She gasped and struggled for air with wide eyes. He let her go a moment later, leaving her coughing and gasping for air.

"The only ones who escape Fort Carolina…do so in a big rectangular box. No one. And I mean absolutely _**no one**_ …leaves there alive. So that must make you a deserter. Or better yet, a filthy **traitor**. Do you know what happens to cowardly young boys like you who not only desert the Continental army but actually have the nerve to pledge allegiance to our enemy?"

"I'm not a spy, deserter, or a traitor. It's the truth," she coughed out hoarsely.

"Now…didn't I tell you that the only way I'd bring you pain, was if your answers weren't to my liking? This, son…is one of those moments."

Jayne didn't even have the chance to defend herself. He began to punch her over and over. He sucker punched her in the stomach at least twice and punched her in the eye, nose, and almost got her mouth. Soon she began to sag as she slowly started to lose consciousness. The ropes binding her to the vertical log kept her upright.

" _Please…stop"_ she whispered coarsely. At last the abuse ended…until a pistol barrel was shoved against her forehead. She heard the audible 'click' of a hammering pin being cocked back.

Jayne could barely speak. Her lip was swollen and bleeding. Her windpipe was still damaged from that strangling and she felt a black eye coming on. She wheezed as she stared death in the face.

"Any last words, boy?"

She could barely keep her head up and she groaned unintelligibly.

"What was that? You gotta speak up."

She weakly raised her head and glared daggers at her tormentor. If looks could kill, the man would be beyond dead... More like a pile of ash, really.

" _You have no honor_ …the red-coats have more mercy and decency than you." Jayne worked up the nerve to actually spit in the man's face, earning an enraged roar from him.

He raised his fist about to strike her again when all hell broke loose in the camp.

To her confused surprise, Jayne heard one of the other men scream the word "AMBUSH!"

Suddenly the four Dragoons tore through the camp on their horses. They used torches to set the tents on fire and used their pistols to shoot some of the Colonials down. Seconds later, about twelve red-coats charged into the clearing. Their surprise attack gave them the upper hand and ultimately neutralized the staggering odds. Sixteen Brits against roughly thirty Continentals... half of the Colonial soldiers were killed before they had the chance to retrieve their weapons in the chaos. Most weapons had been in the tents just before they burst into flames.

Jayne drifted in and out of consciousness. The battle that raged around her was just a blur. Her hearing and eyesight kept coming in and out of focus as dark spots danced in her fading vision. She heard the screams of the wounded and the dying as both red-coats and Colonials were killed. Some were shot and others stabbed through with swords or bayonets.

Then through the chaos, she locked dazed, unfocused eyes on Tavington. His eyes burned with hell-bent fury and he mercilessly killed the Colonials, even the few that tried to surrender. Then he shot the leg of the Colonial leader who had been about to shoot her in the head. He ordered his surviving, uninjured men to capture and subdue her torturer. She only heard broken bits and pieces of the short conversation that took place between Colonel Tavington and the Continental Captain.

"…not a red-coat…nor…is far-away!"

"…didn't know!"

"…not a boy…is…"

"…a lady? I didn't…"

"…sicken me, cretin. Take him away!"

Jayne wasn't sure what happened. Everything that followed was one, big, confusing blur. One second she was tied to the post…and then the next, she was being gently carried over to an awaiting horse, one who looked a lot like Maximus. She feebly fought against the one moving her but ceased her struggles when her rescuer gently shushed her. It reminded her of a father soothing a distressed child. Her vision was blurred although there were a few rare moments when it sharpened enough for her to see what was happening.

Jayne tried to stand on her own but nearly face-planted. A firm, strong grip caught her arm and prevented her from falling. She knew she was back in the custody of the red-coats when her muddled brain finally connected the dots upon hearing their thick, British accents. It was very difficult to understand what they were saying. There were moments when it sounded like she was hearing from under water. Jayne vaguely wondered if it was all a dream but her wounds pained her enough to confirm that she wasn't asleep.

Captain Bordon was one of the men who held her upright while Maximus's owner mounted. Jayne kept drifting in and out of awareness as her injuries and fatigue began to take their toll. One moment she was leaning heavily against the strong frame of Captain Bordon…and then the next, she was being lifted by more than one pair of hands.

Seconds later, she was on a horse. She felt a strong, firm arm wrap around her waist to prevent her from falling. It brought her a sense of deja-vu. At first, she couldn't place who it was until she heard a familiar voice whisper softly in her ear. The tone of voice was gentle and held no indications that the man in question was angry with her at all. Had she been more cognitively functional, it would have surprised her. What he said made her feel safe…and brought her a sense of peace that she would never have thought possible.

" _He'll never hurt you again, Jayne…I promise…"_

She felt her head droop as her strength waned. Her chin rested upon her chest as her eyelids grew heavy. In seconds, Jayne Peyton lost consciousness…

…held protectively in the arms of none other, than Colonel William B. Tavington.

TO BE CONTINUED!

* * *

Author's Note: I gave him the middle initial "B" since it stands for **Banastre** Tarelton—the real name of the historical figurehead that inspired the fictional creation of William Tavington. Also, I know that in the "Patriot" movie, Tavington's horse is brown…I decided to change it since that black stallion is going to have a role to play in the future. ;) Thanks ever so much for reading and reviewing!

And I want to thank "The Caffeinated Hummingbird" for giving me positive feedback on my writing style/technique. Believe it or not…I had an English professor in College give me a D+ on a paper I wrote, simply because he didn't like my writing style and thought that the way I write is "weird". It was an A- worthy at least—I was only made aware of the fact after I asked another professor for a second opinion. I read some of my peers' writings and the professor was a very evil, evil man…he gave them high grades despite the fact their writing was terrible, simply because they were butt kissers. I know I can be good with words but what I truly fail at I think, is punctuation/grammar. I don't have anyone to Beta my stories so I have to do everything on my own and hope it doesn't turn out too bad.


	5. A Growing Kinship

Author's Note: Sorry it took forever to update! I got a new job and its demanding a lot of attention. It's also physically demanding and I get tired out. . Thanks for reading, reviewing, and for adding to your alerts and favs! :D

* * *

 **LEGACY** : Chapter 5

 **\- Aug 20** **th** **1775 -**

 _Jayne Peyton wasn't sure where the hell she was. All she knew, was that she was trapped behind a glass wall, while two men on the other side fought a battle that would determine her destiny._

" _You can't do this, James! You've destroyed us… you've damned your entire family!"_

" _You are no family of mine!"_

" _William Tavington was never meant to die!"_

" _Like hell he wasn't! You'll never undo what's been done! It's impossible to change Tavington's fate!"_

 _Two men grappled with each other and struggled to overpower the other. The one named James grabbed a fallen musket. Before he had the chance to fire, the other man shoved it upwards and grabbed on to it. They struggled for dominance._

" _You ARE family! You are James Hewitt! Nephew of Sarah Hewitt!"_

" _ **No**_ _…that's where you are_ _ **wrong**_ _. My mother was Sarah Hewitt. My father's name…was_ _ **Edrick Miller**_ _. He never would have married my mother if Tavington had lived!"_

" _So that justifies you playing God?!"_

" _I HAVE A RIGHT TO EXIST, DAMN YOU! HOW AM I PLAYING GOD?!"_

" _By tampering with time,_ _ **I**_ _no longer exist! You need to make things right!"_

" _I don't give a damn about you, old man! I don't know you."_

" _How did you get your hands on the watch James? Tell me how!"_

" _I think our conversation ends here."_

 _To Jayne's horror, James used the rifle to hit Stewart Peyton in the head and then pointed the gun directly at her with what had to be the scariest, most evil grin she'd ever seen in her life. He gave her a wink and then pulled the trigger. She watched as the round, metal bullet sped straight for her heart. Jayne tried to move but found that she couldn't. It was like she was glued to the floor. The glass shattered from the impact as the deadly projectile hurtled unopposed, right through it._

 _Just before the small, round lead ball had a chance to pierce her heart, William Tavington leapt right in front of her. The bullet pierced his chest and with a soundless cry, he fell slowly to the floor with a dazed, albeit pained expression. His light blue eyes locked on hers and then closed as he hit the ground. Jayne screamed in pained anguish._

" **NO! WILLIAM!"**

Jayne bolted upright in bed and winced. She found herself laying in an unfamiliar room.

Her ribcage hurt. She reached down to touch it and found that her ribs were bound with strips of cotton cloth. Her head was also bandaged again, she noticed. She winced as a throbbing pain pounded behind her left eye. It was no doubt due to that cruel punch she'd taken. It was probably a dark shade of purple by now…

"Bad dreams?"

Jayne shrieked at the unexpected intrusion and picked up the nearest item from the nightstand next to her-which happened to be a hairbrush of all things-and threw it in the direction of the voice's owner. Her eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight filtering into the room just in time to see Tavington calmly catch the brush in one hand. He raised a brow and shot her an amused smirk. He was currently seated in the shadows against the wall facing the foot of her bed.

She looked around the room and her breathing quickened when she realized she was back at Fort Carolina. After another cursory glance she finally recognized where she was. She was in Tavington's room… he probably chose to keep her in _his_ room so that he could guard her himself.

"Oh no…" she moaned as she hid her face in her hands but had to pull them away after pain lanced through her lip and bruised jaw bone.

She heard Tavington move his chair to her bedside but she refused to look at him. He remained silent.

"Jayne, how did you know that my name is William?" he raised an eyebrow in question.

"I…heard the Colonials mention your name," she answered with a blank expression.

The corner of Tavington's lip began to curl upwards as though he were struggling to fight back a grin.

"If there is one thing I've learned about you, Jayne Peyton…it's that you're a terrible liar. You knew my name during our formal introductions with General Cornwallis and Captain Bordon. Now. Tell me the _truth_." He ordered firmly with severity, although it was softened when he allowed himself a small half-smile.

"It's…complicated."

"Indeed."

She tried to shy around the subject in the hopes he would drop it.

"The Colonials do know your first name though."

She fidgeted and looked extremely uncomfortable under his sharp eyed scrutiny. Jayne released a heavy sigh of resignation.

"How did you know that I was lying?" she grumbled with a small pout of defeat.

"I'm your interrogator. It's my job to know," he replied with a satisfied grin. No doubt beside himself with glee now that she accepted the fact that lying to him was impossible.

She rolled her eyes and shot him a pointed glare.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she gave him a look of suspicion.

"Would you like to hear a story?" Tavington questioned with all seriousness as he crossed his arms.

She gave him a very uncomfortable look filled with distrust. She glanced first to his pistol holstered in his belt and then to his sword. Her eyes narrowed.

"Does it involve my future execution?" she questioned flatly.

This earned a dramatic eye roll and a sigh from the Colonel.

"Oh please, Miss Peyton. Don't think so highly of yourself."

"Alright…then what is the story about?"

"I shall tell you…" he gave her a mischievous grin.

 _-Flashback—_

" _Colonel, I'm sorry to awaken you…"_

 _Tavington's eyes flew open and he shot a death glare at the soldier who dared to interrupt his sleep._

" _What is it?!" he hissed angrily._

" _General Cornwallis has requested your presence, Sir."_

" _At this hour?!" Tavington growled as he sat up._

" _Yes, Colonel," the soldier gulped and then made a hasty retreat to escape his wrath._

 _He hastily pulled his long hair back into a pony-tail, pulled on his jacket, his pants, his riding helmet, and quickly polished his gold buttons, his buckle, and then began to check his pockets. That's when he realized something was missing._

 _ **Jayne Peyton's wallet.**_

 _When he found the thief responsible…he would make them beg him for a quick death! He soon noticed that his sword was not where he had left it. It was laying on the floor…_

 _William thought it was strange. If his sword had simply fallen in the wee hours of the night, he would have undoubtedly heard it. He only had to take three steps out of his door before another soldier approached him with a shaky salute. The young lad swallowed nervously before speaking._

" _Sir…there is something you should see."_

 _William Tavington followed him down to the second floor where they found Eliza tied and gagged at the foot of her bed. He snarled at the soldier._

" _You do not need my permission to cut the poor lady loose! Find out who did this to her. Unless there are other matters that need attending, I shall be-"_

"— _there is Colonel…and we know who is responsible."_

" _See to it that the culprit is thrown in the stockade until a more worthy punishment has been acquitted. In the meantime, I will be—"_

" _That will be hard to accomplish, Sir. It was the prisoner who has done this…"_

 _Tavington's ire was mounting rapidly, for this was the second time the young soldier had interrupted him mid-sentence._

 _Tavington scoffed._

" _Impossible! The lady was quite ill last night. She is no doubt still recovering in her room."_

" _S-sir…she uhh…she escaped."_

" _SHE WHAT?!"_

 _Without another word, Colonel William Tavington ran out of the room and down the hall. He bounded down the stairs two at a time and shoved two soldiers aside in his haste, earning cries of indignation that fell on deaf ears. Once he arrived at the door of Jayne's room, his eyes widened in disbelief at the sight that greeted him._

 _There on the ground, gagged and tied in the most comical way, were two of his majesty's finest. One of them was wearing what appeared to be a women's nightgown. Tavington gestured towards his subdued men and snarled an order at the other soldiers in the room._

" _Why are you standing around?! Cut them loose!"_

 _Once the men were free, Tavington crouched down and gave them his full attention._

" _Tell me. What happened?"_

 _Both soldiers recounted what occurred…the two men looking more and more ashamed as they began to stammer out the events that led to their unceremonious 'capture'._

 _The Colonel's eyes grew dangerously dark while he continued to listen and he clenched his jaw in barely controlled anger with each additional word. Surprisingly, he found that his rage was not directed at Jayne. Secretly, he admitted that he rather admired her. Never in his life had he seen a girl best two full grown men in such a way. Highly trained soldiers no less!_

 _When they were finished. Tavington stared coldly at the pair. Then he nodded to Captain Bordon who had just entered and gave him a firm order._

" _Lock those two in the stockade. Let it be known that any soldier who leaves his assigned post for any reason, will spend a week, in said stockade. Should any man repeat the offense a second time, he will be shot," he finished with a dark grin that promised he would hold true to his word._

 _Tavington was just about to order a search of the fort for their escapee when he heard shouting outside. He ran out of the door, just in time to catch a glimpse of a soldier riding upon HIS horse through the closing gate. He began to shout orders, just as the warning bell began to ring._

 _Three of his Green Dragoons followed him to the stables. Tavington's horse Maximus was the fastest horse in the cavalry but he knew it was not impossible to catch up to him. Especially if the girl did not know how to ride…_

 _He mounted the Dragoon's second fastest horse. She belonged to a LT. Smith. As he guided the brown mare out of the stable, his sharp blue eyes landed on Maximus's saddle and chestplate. So the girl was riding bareback… impressive._

 _In seconds, they were out of the fort and hot on Jayne and Maximus's trail. William Tavington was quite familiar with the land surrounding the fort. He watched the young lady disappear with his horse through some brush and lost sight of them for only a moment. While it did seem as though they disappeared, his sharp, calculating mind knew without a doubt that they weren't far._

 _What made him such a brilliant officer was that many times, he put himself in another's shoes. Where would he hide if cornered? He took notice of the bridge and internally grinned in triumph. Rather than confront the girl, he chose to make her believe that she had truly lost them. He did give the order for his men to split up but in addition to the verbal order, he silently hand signaled another._

 _After they left, Tavington kept his distance and followed the girl to see where she was going. Maybe if she was a Colonial or militia spy…she would lead him right to them._

 _When he witnessed the ten Colonial soldiers ambush Jayne, his initial doubts concerning Miss Peyton's loyalties were no longer in question. He dismounted from his horse and silently crept through the dense woods, keeping Jayne's captors in sight. When he saw that they had tied her to a post…he returned to his borrowed horse and regrouped with his Dragoons and two squads of elite infantrymen and ordered them to encircle the camp and remain out of sight._

 _Tavington crept forward until he was hiding in a bush adjacent to where Jayne was bound and had to bite back a savage snarl when he witnessed the Colonial mercilessly beat her. If he had any remaining, lingering doubts of her loyalty, they fled instantly as he silently unsheathed his sword. He managed to overhear what her interrogator said._

 _So the man justified beating her senseless, simply because he didn't_ _ **LIKE**_ _her answers, despite the fact they were completely honest?! It made his blood boil._

 _So once he saw that his men were strategically in place, he sounded a war cry and the battle began. He walked through the clearing and shot a charging Colonial in the head with his pistol and calmly reloaded as chaos ensued. He finished reloading and fired another round and dropped another man. Then he used his sword for the remainder of the fight._

 _When the Colonial soldiers surrendered…at that point, all Tavington could see was red in his vision and the rage he carried completely blocked out his rational side. That was probably why they nicknamed him "The Butcher". He rarely, if ever, showed any mercy._

 _Then Tavington remembered why they were there to begin with when his eyes briefly locked with Jayne's. He ran to her side and used his dagger to cut her free. He carried her to Maximus with Bordon's help. He managed to reclaim his horse after Jayne's initial capture by the Colonials. For some reason, William did not trust anyone else to ride with her. A strange, fierce overprotectiveness of the girl overcame him. It was foreign. The only other person he shared these feelings with, were with his beloved Sarah Hewitt._

 _While it was true that these newfound feelings were present in regards to Jayne…it was not in a romantic way. Rather…he imagined that if he had a daughter, this is how he might feel for her._

" _He'll never hurt you again, Jayne…I promise," he whispered with remorse._

 _-End Flashback—_

Jayne could only stare dumbly at Tavington as he concluded his intriguing tale.

"I thought for sure that you were going to have me shot, hanged, and beheaded for stealing your horse. Sorry about that by the way…" she apologized with a guilty grimace.

Her expression made Tavington laugh. Like… _genuinely laugh_. Jayne liked his laugh. It wasn't long until she found herself laughing along with him. His laughter was contagious. His eyes seemed to sparkle whenever he did so.

Soon the two of them sobered and Jayne frowned.

"Am I a prisoner here?"

"No. You are not.

Jayne was startled when she felt his hand gently turn her face towards him. He appeared to be studying her…as if he were noticing the extent of her injuries for the first time. Reaching over to the basin beside her, Tavington dipped a cloth in cold water and wrung it out before lightly dabbing at her cracked lip which had begun to bleed again.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you, Jayne," he spoke softly with clear regret ringing in his voice.

The young woman honestly didn't know what to say. Thankfully Tavington wasn't yet finished. He paused in his gentle ministrations to give her a look of clear annoyance and gently chided her.

"You shouldn't have run away. Why did you feel so compelled to do such a brainless and quite frankly, idiotic, thing? You were safe here!"

"Despite my innocence, it didn't appear as though any of you believed me. I was afraid I was going to be executed. I had to get away…"

"You never need to fear again. I informed General Cornwallis of what occurred-after what the Colonials did to you…" his expression darkened and his voice deepened with underlying fury when he remembered what they had done to Jayne. "You have been offered an invitation to remain here for as long as you so desire."

Jayne closed her eyes and released a heavy exhale as though a terrible burden had been lifted. A large hand softly began to smooth her rather messy hair down.

"Thank you. For saving me… _ **again**_ ," she released a soft growl and gave him a very displeased glare.

Somehow Tavington knew that she was not angry with him. He reasoned that she must be angry with herself. He could see her frustration. Jayne was the type that never took too kindly to filling the role of the damsel. That was one of the things he admired about her. She was headstrong.

The kinship he felt for her grew the more he got to know her.

Jayne began to exhibit signs of being in pain. That's when she revealed something else that he found truly remarkable.

"I never told you this, but I'm a healer. I know all there is to know about herbal medicine. If given the right herbs and supplies, I can make pain relievers, healing salves, and tonics," she winced as she attempted to make herself more comfortable. Once she felt comfortable enough, she released a weary sigh. "What I would give to have some now."

"I will see to it that you are given the supplies you need. But right now, you need to rest."

Tavington switched the four-legged chair he had been using for a rocking chair. He relaxed and made no move to leave the room. This confused Jayne.

"Don't you have a war to fight?"

"Not at the moment," he chuckled humorously.

"Why do you want to stay here with me?" she questioned sleepily.

"I want to see you well. The Colonial soldier who hurt you is going to be severely punished and then executed."

She appeared to be fighting sleep and her stubbornness made Tavington's mouth quirk into a soft smile. He reached over and smoothed her hair soothingly, just as he had done the night she'd been ill. It was slowly becoming a habit.

"Rest, Jayne. I promise…I'm going to be right here," he whispered.

Jayne closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep…feeling safer than she'd ever been since the moment she arrived.

As Colonel William Tavington began his long, silent vigil, he could only hope that Captain Bordon had successfully retrieved the satchel that Jayne had buried beneath that apple tree…

TO BE CONTINUED!

* * *

Author's Note: I know this was a much shorter chapter but honestly, I got real bad writer's block. My next update might take a while. I've started a new job and will be tired a lot…I take the city bus and I spend virtually half a day riding since I have to go to a station to transfer twice. I'm also going to be working double shifts. I will do my best to get another chapter but I'm so sorry if it isn't as soon as we'd all prefer. Thanks for reading and reviewing! :D


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